


Falling

by Dearland



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Female Character of Color, Romance, Science Fiction, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dearland/pseuds/Dearland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their shuttle crashes, Spock and Uhura must survive on an increasingly unstable planet.  Past and present interconnect as their chances for survival dwindles with each passing hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling and Despair

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I ever wrote. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> XOXO
> 
> Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters are not mine.

NOW

Falling. 

Descending nose first, the shuttle hurtles uncontrollably through the ionosphere in a nimbus of heat. It pierces into stratosphere then atmosphere of an unimportant Class M planet with the alphanumeric designation, J7900. 

Spock’s frantic fingers work his console, trying in vain to even out the small craft. To his right, Lieutenant Uhura, calm except for the mild frown marring her brow, works at breaking through the furious ion storm swarming their location. Her attempts are futile as the signals refract backward to its source. Ensign Hartmann of Stellar Cartography, suffering a bloodied lip offers her support at boosting their distress call to the Enterprise or any friendly vessel within the area. 

Seconds seem like hours, as the twilight wrapped, rocky grey surface rushes up to meet them on their deadly trajectory. For the first time in his life, he dislikes his innate ability to sense time to the precise second. He has one minute, forty-eight point eleven seconds left to level the craft and try to buffer their impact. However, given their current entry velocity and gravity, the landing was going to be unpleasant. 

“Ensign, Lieutenant, secure yourselves.” These are Spock’s final words as he is able to change their angle from the sharp ninety-degree plummet to something closely resembling normal. Six point three seconds later, curse his internal clock, they crash and he is falling.…

THEN

Falling. The sensation surrounded him the first time he realized his feelings for Cadet Uhura went beyond that of a proud mentor and instructor. Spock had heard of her months before her appearance in the first class she was to have with him. He ignored the comments from her previous instructors, deciding he would judge her brilliance per his assessment. It was by no accident that his curriculums were demanding or that he was a difficult grader. His students often employed inventive adjectives while describing his classes. He regarded their reactions as highly illogical. He was simply demanding of his students, the performances essential for careers within the fleet. Besides, he had generous office hours, which less than twenty-five percent of his students utilised. 

Spock was pleasantly surprised by her prodigious nature and absolute devotion to her studies. Additionally, the symmetry of her features and the pleasing curves of her slender figure did not escape his keen vision. He had noticed these details the first time she sat in one of his classes. During the lecture, he mentally filed the information away for later analysis and proper placement. 

On this day, during the second week of the final semester of her third year, Spock’s awareness of his student changed into something improper. It was early evening and they were sitting in his small junior faculty office. Their discussion focused on a change to her already busy schedule. It affected the hours with which they could work on her personal project. She wished to improve her conversational proficiency of an obscure lower caste Romulan dialect. 

She had decided join the Academy’s Dance Ensemble. “I was not aware of your interest in dance, Cadet.”

The happiness in her dark brown eyes reached her lips, and she graced him with one of her rare complete smiles. “A woman does not divulge all her secrets. She should always remain a mystery.”

Spock wondered what else he might not know about the Cadet. He also speculated on whether it was wrong to indulge the mild trill caused by contemplating how he could learn her additional secrets. 

Images of her graceful frame moving across a stage, long legs executing each move tantalised his mind. With a mental sigh, he focused on resurrecting his inner calm. It was difficult. “How long have you practiced this art?” 

“I studied modern dance and ballet for most of my childhood,” she replied, most of her smile slipping away. “I need something else outside of languages, linguistics and academia to occupy my time.”

As he reviewed her demanding schedule, Spock into account what he knew of students as driven as Uhura. If she were not careful, she could end up with what humans called ‘burnout’. He understood that this new activity could provide her with a necessary physical release; however, caution was required.

“Are you certain this addition to your schedule is wise?”

“I believe it is manageable. If trouble arises adjustments can be made.”

He decided that he would monitor her stress level during the remainder of the semester. “We could change Wednesday evening meetings to Thursdays, although it would have to be thirty minutes earlier. My other commitments preclude any other changes during the work week.” 

She glanced at her own copy of the schedule. “I would have to cut back from three days to two.” She frowned, then looked up at him and asked, “Can we work on Saturdays, if it isn’t an imposition?” 

His Saturday morning routine had a degree of flexibility and he did not mind having her in his company. He was never bored in her presence. “The mornings are acceptable.”

The brilliant happy smile was back. “Great, we can meet for brunch. There’s nothing like conversation over a good meal.”

Odd, he had not thought that far ahead. Nevertheless, he found himself agreeing with her, arranging to meet at an off campus café. They both stood, and he followed her to the door, as she turned to say her goodbye the back of her hand grazed his. The falling sensation returned with sudden force pushing at his carefully constructed psyche. Not once in his almost twenty-seven years could he remember being affected in this manner.

NOW

There is a tremor below her feet and a horrible pain in her chest. Her legs throb from smashing into her console but the pain is tolerable. In fact, the pain is a good thing. She can also taste blood in her mouth and her tongue feels sore. She surmises that she must have bitten it when they crashed. Lieutenant Uhura inhales deeply, fighting the panic that threatens to overwhelm her. 

The dim, red emergency lights and the shrill whir of the emergency alarm are all that she senses. With shaking fingers, she unhooks her safety belt, glancing to where Commander Spock should be. She only sees the edges of black boots. Scrambling from her seat, she goes over to his area and finds him on the floor. His body is sprawled at an uncomfortable angle. Dropping to her knees, she checks that he is breathing. A harsh sigh escapes her lips as she feels breath leave his nostrils. He is merely unconscious.

Still on her knees within the mangled shuttle, she crawls around and over debris to where Ensign Mariah Hartmann is located. She too is alive and unconscious. Her injuries appear to be severe. Uhura is not sure the woman will survive. 

Back on her feet, she returns to her console, checking the communication board. She allows herself another sigh of relief when she sees that it suffered minimal damage. She tries again to send another signal but the storm continues to disrupt her attempts. Prior to their crash, Spock estimated hours before they would be able to leave this system. 

She tries to scan their outside surroundings, except the smoking and hissing board refuses to cooperate. Grabbing a tricorder, Uhura uses the emergency handle and a few swift kicks to get the door open. Once she steps outside, she starts scanning, first for potentially hostile animal or humanoid life. There aren’t any. The only life she detects is a tiny organism that should not affect her health or those of her injured crewmates. Adjusting the tricorder tells her there is drinkable water. The vegetation is poisonous with the exception of a weed like plant. There is also an active volcano twelve miles south of their location. It could blow today or next year, judging by the seismic readings and the tremor she felt minutes ago. 

Satisfied with her readings, she steps back into the shuttle and goes to Spock. She scans him as best as she can without an actual medical tricorder. He has injuries to his chest and head and a cracked rib. Most worrying is the head injury. There is no telling how it will affect his mind.  
Gently, she touches his face, her fingers feather light before they ghost over his meld points. She hopes that after multiple melds between them, he would somehow sense her. Although, they have not bonded, they can sense each other during extreme emotion or stress. When she feels nothing the calm evaporates and she feels frustration and building despair. 

“Damn it Spock, I know you’re in there.” 

She leans forward, presses her forehead against his fingers never leaving his meld points. “Please, I need you.” 

THEN

Despair was not something Cadet Nyota Uhura had ever truly experienced in her short twenty-one years of life. Growing up, her happy childhood was marred briefly by the death of her bibi. The subsequent sadness that followed her for months, eventually faded into the background of her memories. Intellectually, she recognized it to be a coping mechanism. The following year at age seventeen, thinking she knew all there was to know of the universe, she fell in love. Marcus was a dark-eyed young man who talked of the stars and seemed to have the same ambitions she did. 

Three months into their relationship, she gave her virginity to him. The next week, he left her for another girl. She spent one day in denial followed by feelings of inadequacy. The day after that, she felt outraged. She knew a long line of males who could have received her gift. Instead, she chose him to be the first. She thought he cherished and respected her. Apparently, she was wrong.

Uhura found Marcus that night at a club they’d previously visited together. She proceeded to hit him viciously in places on his autonomy guaranteed to hurt. Mellie, her older and fairly wiser sister dragged her off Marcus. On the way home, she lectured her on the proper conduct of an Uhura in public. One did not embarrass oneself in such a manner over the likes of Marcus. Too angry at the time, she simply shrugged off her sister’s words. The next day she took them to heart. She also promised herself never to fall in love again.

A year later, she headed off to Starfleet Academy. Following her new philosophy, she shied away from romantic relationships, only having a few one-night encounters. She used her partners to scratch her itch when it became too bothersome to suppress. This existence gave her the freedom to delve deeply into the cerebral aspect of being a student. She thrived, excelling at almost everything she did. Some courses were easy for her while others required the extra effort. Therefore, it was of no surprise to anyone, including herself that she would seek out Commander Spock as a mentor. That he accepted raised an eyebrow or two. 

By the time they agreed to meet over brunch every Saturday, an amicable almost-friendship had developed. Most of their meetings took place at cafés, although on occasion she joined him at his quarters. Those meetings she considered the best because there he relaxed, as much as he would allow himself. She always looked forward to his company and his extremely dry sense of humour. Yes, she was shocked to find out he had one. 

At the end of the semester, the Dance Ensemble prepared to put on their annual end of season production. Of course, she invited the commander to watch her perform a short modern solo piece written by a fellow cadet from Denobula and excerpts from Swan Lake. 

Amidst the backstage bustle, she adjusted her white swan costume while scrutinizing her appearance. Gaila, who demanded to lurk among the dancers made sure Uhura’s hair was properly secured. “You know, I wasn’t sure you would continue with this hobby.” 

“I do have fun, Gaila.” At her roommate’s mock surprise, she laughed and added, “Well, sometimes.”

“I really thought you’d form a band when we talked about you adding another activity to your schedule.”

“It crossed my mind. With this, I got to see if I could still be a dancer.” She smiled at her friend who was also a talented dancer and applied kohl to her eyelids. “Besides, I am already a part of the Chorale.”

Gaila gave her another critical glance over. “I think you’re just about ready.”

And, she was ready. On stage whether alone or in a group she forgot about her roommate, her classes, her stresses, even Commander Spock. She let the dance and the music carry her across polished oak floors, pouring every emotion into her performance. It was exhilarating to derive so much freedom whilst entertaining an audience with the results of her hard work.

After the show and all the applause ended, Uhura spotted Commander Spock. She was elated that he attended tonight’s performance. Moreover, she liked that he was out of uniform. The dark muted colours of his outfit accentuated his broad shoulders and drove home what she had known from the first day she sat in his class. He was handsome. Even with his awful haircut and stoic expression, there was no denying genetics had made him gorgeous to anyone who had eyes to see.

She smiled when he congratulated her on a job well done. Her night could not have been any more perfect that is, until a beautiful, fair-haired woman came to stand beside the Commander. “I was wondering what kept you.” She looked at Spock with a possessive gleam only another woman would notice. And then she turned those eyes on Uhura.

“Leila, may I introduce Cadet Uhura. Cadet, this is Doctor Leila Kalomi.”

Leila Kalomi smiled at Uhura and extended her right hand. Frozen in place, Uhura almost forgot her good manners. She pasted a false smile onto her face, as she felt her insides froze and then shattered into jagged shards. “A pleasure to meet a friend of Commander Spock,” she said, scarcely managing to keep her smile while they shook hands.

“I enjoyed your solo piece at the end of the show Ms. Uhura. You were simply breathtaking.” 

“I concur, Cadet.”

In the face of such polite words, she felt even worst. “Thank you both. I must say goodbye now, the others are waiting.”

They bid their goodnights, and she slowly walked back to where Gaila and the others waited. Leonard McCoy hugged her with gruff congratulation, while James Kirk for old time sake attempted to figure out her name. Tonight they were both Gaila’s date, although she knew blue-eyed boy wonder was going to be the Orion’s next target. 

At a bar hours later, she downed her fifth whisky shot, then proceeded to dance with an engineering Cadet whose first name was Hunter to match his perfect green eyes. For some reason, tonight his surname eluded her. When a slow song started, she wrapped her arms around him, leaning into his solid frame. She wanted this tonight, needed to forget the despair that threatened to consume her.

Hunter’s hands caressed her back and she pushed her body closer into his feeling his arousal. As a second slow song began, she raised her head to kiss him. When he responded, she deepened their kiss. Yet the pieces inside remained shattered; Leila Kalomi’s self-assured gaze taunting her. Desperate, her fingers reached up to caress Hunter’s neck. She would have continued had she not felt a firm tap on her shoulders.

With some effort, Gaila separated her and Hunter. Uhura thought he should have reacted badly at having his plans dashed. Instead, he smiled dazedly, nodded and agreed to Gaila’s every suggestion. Distantly, she wondered at the true potential of her roommate’s pheromones. 

In silence, they left the bar, walking the short blocks back to the Academy. It was only after they were safely within their room, Uhura on her bed with a glass of water, Gaila standing with arms folded next to her that sombre words were spoken.

“As much as I am for you getting laid, and really you should, considering the length of time you’ve gone without. I had to stop you.” 

“I never asked you.” Uhura felt a nasty headache beginning to form at her temples. Maybe the drinking age should not have been lowered to eighteen. Twenty-five might have been a more suitable age.

“Something was wrong about tonight. I know you and I definitely know sex.” Gaila sat beside her and continued, “This was sex for all the wrong reasons.”

Dredging up a deep sigh, she asked, “What do you want?”

“Just for you to share, if you want to,” she replied.

Uhura stood abruptly. “I don’t,” she bit out, which was unfair to Gail who only had her best interest in mind. 

In the bathroom, she heaved the contents of her stomach, cleaned up and returned to her bed. In silence once more, they got ready for the night. The lights were switched off and she finally let the feelings that were bubbling under the surface come forth.

“I think I love him.” To realise much less admit to such feelings was a very hard thing for her to do. She had after all sworn never again to fall in love. 

More silence before her roommate responded carefully, “Commander Spock.”

“Was I that obvious?” 

“No, but like I said, I know you and I know about sex. You’ve been attracted to him for some time.”

“Attraction does not equal love. I have felt attraction for others, not love.”

There was rustling of sheets as Gaila changed position on her bed. “True, but your attraction has grown steadily at which point it was bound to change from simple lust. I’m guessing the woman with our hot Vulcan instructor is what brought about your realisation.”

“They did look like a couple, didn’t they?”

“Maybe they’re just friends who were out to share a mutual appreciation of dance or whatever it is Vulcans do at dance performances.”

Uhura did not answer and eventually she could hear Gaila’s soft snores. She allowed the ugly despair to wash over her because in the morning she will rise as usual and go about her Sunday routine. She was here to be the best communications officer and only the Enterprise would do. Nothing will stand in her way. Nothing.


	2. Clarity and Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The formatting is off tonight and I'm just about ready to pull my hair out!

NOW

 

 

Commander Spock’s return to consciousness is by degrees.  He likens it to coming up from the bottom of an ocean.  Each level he rises through displays itself in perfect clarity.  His internal clock tells him he has been unconscious for three hours, twenty-three minutes.  The pain tells another story.  He assesses the damage to his body and knows that he can function for sometime before requiring medical intervention.  Breathing deeply, he suppresses the pain. 

 

The shuttle interior is dark save for the red glow of emergency lights.  He can see outside courtesy of the half-opened door.  It is now almost pitch-black as there is no moon or nearby planet to light the night sky.  Turning his head to the left, he sees Lieutenant Uhura kneeling beside Ensign Hartmann.  She has cut away a section of the other woman’s uniform and is cleaning the bloodied area. 

 

“Lieutenant, please report,” he says, slowly bringing his body upright.

 

With a quick look over her shoulders she responds to his question, “Shuttle is inoperable; planet is safe if you avoid most vegetation, no animal life unless you count the tiny organisms.  The storm is still overhead and my last try at sending a signal failed.”  Hartmann’s blood is mostly gone now and she drops the red stained sterile pad onto a disposable wrapper, applying a temporary derma seal.  “Oh, and there’s an active volcano south of us.”

 

For a short moment, he is back to being her mentor and he is impressed at the clear concise manner in which she reports her findings.   “Ensign Hartmann?”

 

“Head injury, damage to her stomach and right lung, there is only so much my basic field medicine training can do.  She came to minutes ago and panicked when she couldn’t breathe right.  I gave her a sedative and tri-ox to increase oxygen intake.”  She shakes her head half in disgust, half in sadness.  “I missed some of her bleeding; red on the red of her uniform.” 

 

Peeling off the messy gloves, she places them with the sterile pad and seals them away.  “How do you feel physically?  Are you in pain?”

 

“I can manage.”

 

She sits next to him and places her cool hand over his.  He immediately adjusts their fingers to form the Vulcan equivalent of a light kiss.  She obliges, returning his unhurried caresses.  Her touch brings him comfort and peace, even among the wreckage. 

 

“You’re not bullshitting me are you?”

 

He raises an eyebrow at her words, although he is use to her occasional colourful expressions.  “No, Nyota, I am not.”

 

“Do you need anything?”

 

“Just for you to remain where you are at the moment.”  He says the words gently into her hair as her head comes to rest on his shoulder.  He can feel the tension radiate from her as she settles closer yet to him.  He raises his arm and very carefully wraps it around her shoulders.  “What of you, are you injured?”

 

“My legs and chest hurts a bit, noting as serious as you two.” She sounds tired.

 

He senses that she is experiencing more pain than she would have him believe.  He remains quiet, content to feel her press against his body; satisfied for now simply to listen to her breathe steadily, secure in the clarity of his feelings for her.    

 

THEN

 

During the summer of 2257, Spock found himself with two projects, now that he was temporarily free from teaching.  With his colleague from Psychology, Lieutenant Commander Balgobin, he worked on improving the Kobayashi Maru simulation.  The night of their final test the Lieutenant Commander invited him out to celebrate.  Spock politely declined the offer, noting with detached amusement that no one seemed surprised.  

 

His second project was a survey of twentieth century Abstract Art.  As a child, he was often exposed to early Earth masters because both of his parents appreciated those artists.  Cadet Uhura suggested, in one of their conversations over brunch that he “broaden his horizons”.  He scheduled himself two weeks’ leave and set out for New York City, his first of many destinations. 

 

At the end of his two weeks, as he rode the autotrain into San Francisco, he had to admit that Uhura was correct.  There was so much more to this genre of art than seen at an initial glance.  He spent thirteen minutes, nine seconds lost in the horrific depression of one piece.  Later that evening he returned to his hotel room and meditated on the image.  He analyzed, and then deconstructed, each emotion it evoked.  By the time he readied for bed, his mind was again a place of ordered calm.

 

When he returned to his instructor’s quarters there were messages waiting for him.  The first came from the Linguistics Department informing him that Cadet Uhura had accepted the offer to be his Advanced Phonology Assistant.  The second was from the Chemistry Department Administrator, notifying him of a change in his Quantum Chemistry course. Three students had dropped it.  He was sure after the semester began another seven to nine would also disappear.  

 

Eight prompts later, he opened a message from his mother.  A tiny smile touched his lips as he perused her text.  Amanda had a quirk of never leaving visual or voice messages unless her time was limited.

 

_My Dearest Spock,_

_I am aware that you are currently away and hope that you are enjoying yourself.  I am well and so is your father.  He will be away for the next few weeks negotiating a new trade contract between the Yavtik Consortium and the Federation.  Next week, I will be presenting a short paper on Betazed about the challenges of teaching on a world alien to your own.  It should’ve been the easiest thing to write; yet, I found it rather difficult._

_I look forward to visiting the beautiful ringed world.  I have heard so many interesting things about their matriarchal culture.  There are not many such pure examples of these types of societies within the Federation. My intention is to tour as much as I can while there._

_The weather has been cooler than normal.  The last time I saw temperatures like these, you left for Earth and Starfleet.  Sarek doesn’t appreciate it but I do.  It is a relief for me to have something resembling what I grew up enjoying.  Please know that we are both proud of your accomplishments. I wish you would visit when he is here and end this insanity of not speaking to each other._

_Until next time, stay safe and remember I love you, my son._

_Your,_

_Mother_

 

Even after all this time, Amanda always made sure he knew how she felt about his rift with Sarek.  As much as he preferred pleasing his mother, he could not grant her this one wish.  It would be illogical to apologise for his actions when they had been the correct thing to do.  What he needed at the time was his father’s support.  Instead, he received rebuke and coldness.  His mother, though, had accepted his decision and accompanied him to San Francisco.  She claimed her trip was to make sure he properly settled in.  It did not slip his notice that she remained on Earth long after he began classes or that she spent much of her time away from the Academy vicinity.  

 

He filed her message and returned to the remaining few.  The last one was from Leila Kalomi, the botanist he has found to be agreeable.  Her trip to Starbase V had ended early.  She wanted to know if he was available to dine.  Spock contemplated denying her request, and then remembered that her presence helped in suppressing his intense and lustful attraction to Cadet Uhura.  Ever since his discovery of these feelings, he found himself wanting her company, even seeking her out on occasions for no particular purpose.  Leila was intelligent and not overly demonstrative.  She helped take away the edge that remained after much meditation.

 

He accepted her invitation and the next evening found him at Japanese restaurant within walking distance of her home.  With her hair hanging around her shoulders and wearing a simple blue dress, Leila was beautiful sitting across from him.  Their meal was finished and they were lingering.  

 

“You’re kidding me, right?” She chuckled softly.  He remembered her laugh was what caught his attention when they met a week after his graduation.

 

“Vulcans do not kid,” he replied in his best monotone.

 

“How did your roommate react?”

 

“Fletcher was one of the most logical Human cadets I encountered as a student but all logic abandoned him at that moment.”

 

“I can understand him losing his cool.  It couldn’t have been easy on him.”

 

Spock tented his fingers and gazed at his companion.  “I clearly explained that it was all a misunderstanding.  Drina was too inebriated to differentiate between one dark-haired youth and another.  She also appeared not to know left from right.  Otherwise, she would not have crawled into my bed and tried to take advantage.  On the verge of committing violence against each other, Fletcher and I heard loud snoring.  Drina had moved over to his bed and fallen asleep.”

 

She laughed outright. “What happened afterwards?”

 

“Fletcher began complaining about the ill effects of too much alcohol on his girlfriend, then joined her on his bed.  I decided at that point to utilize other sleeping arrangements, specifically in the lab where I was a Research Assistant.”

 

Their conversation switched to her work on the space station and plans for a long-range assignment.  Eventually the inevitable happened and he found himself at her domicile.  He was no stranger to the large studio, which she divided with rice paper screens. 

 

As soon as the doors closed, she leaned up and kissed him.  He placed his arms around her small frame and drew her into his body.  Soon more kisses followed as clothing were discarded on the way to her bed.

 

Later while she slept and he breathed in their combined scent, he sorted out what had just happened.  Leila had tried, to as Humans would say, to ‘make love’.  He had quickly changed their actions, attempting to reinforce that this was not such a liaison.  True loving intimacy did not exist for them.  Instead, theirs was a relationship based on the mutual satiation of lust.

 

It was now all so clear to him.   An astonishing clarity he experience only twice in his life.  The first time he was a mere child choosing to live life as Vulcan.  The next time he stood before the Vulcan Science Academy and rejected their offer of admission.  He could not give Leila what she wanted because he had given it to another.  Not even the tenuous bond to his betrothed T’Pring, prevented Spock from making Nyota Uhura a necessary component to his life.  He did not anticipate a pleasant conversation with Leila after she awoke.    

 

NOW 

 

Eight hours has lapsed since they have crash-landed on J7900.  Lieutenant Uhura is once again checking Ensign Hartmann’s external injuries.  The head wound and the shallow cuts are all closing and clotting.  Uhura sees the same cannot be said for Hartmann’s major injuries.  She wishes she could do more for her.  They had taken standard weapons training together.  They’ve never been friends, although they’ve acknowledged each other before this faithful trip. 

 

After cleaning her hands, she finds an emergency nutrition bar and grimaces in anticipation of the damp sawdust taste.  On second thought, she grabs another bar and steps out of the shuttle to where Commander Spock is standing under the few visible stars.  He is taking readings on his tricorder.  She offered him an analgesic earlier, knowing that every breath must cause pain.  Not surprisingly, he refused.  He told her he was consciously redirecting energy to his injuries. 

 

“You’ve been at this for some time; anything interesting?”

 

She hands him the bar, smiles when even in the dark she sees the look that flashes across his eyes.  “I do not require nourishment at the moment.”    

 

He is being stubborn and they both know it.  She holds it out to him patiently.  “You need it and since you’re commanding this mission, I’m insisting.”

 

Without another word, he takes the bar and they sit on a small boulder large enough to seat them comfortably.  They eat, quietly contemplating the barren vista, chasing the taste of the bar with water.

 

“The storm has elongated.  We may have to add another twelve to fourteen hours to my previous estimation.”

 

She looks at him with concern; any delay will be dire for Hartmann.  “You’re not sure?”

 

“By elongating, it will weaken in certain sections, allowing us to get through a strong signal.”

 

“I have boosted the emergency beacon to twice its normal power.  You can tinker with it; who knows, you might get more juice out of the crystals.”

 

“Has there been any change in Ensign Hartmann’s condition?”

 

Readjusting her once carefully arranged bun, she responds, “Her external bleeding has eased and minor superficial wounds are healing.  She’s bleeding internally.  We may lose her before help arrives.”

 

“The Enterprise is aware of our flight plan.  They will have begun a thorough search once we failed to rendezvous with them.  Furthermore, they can pick up our shuttle’s signature and trace it to the storm’s energy.”

 

“What if they’re too late?” 

 

“It is pointless to dwell on how long it will take for help to arrive.  We can only prepare ourselves to face any eventuality.”

 

“Spock, how could you be so dispassionate about our situation?  You sound heartless.”  She stands, her eyes capturing his gaze.

 

As the words leave her mouth, she is terribly sorry.  It takes all of her control not to cringe at her own callousness.  Of course, he has compassion for Hartmann.  She knows how much he is capable of feeling.  She also knows that their overwhelming capacity for feeling is what forced the Vulcan race to suppress, and in some cases purge, emotions.

 

His lips tighten and she looks away from his now cold, empty eyes.  “I suppose I do not exhibit enough empathy to please you, Lieutenant.”  He gets up and walks back to the shuttle, his back stiffer than usual.  She doesn’t think it has anything to do with his injuries.

 

Uhura sits back down and tries to calm herself.  As guilty as she feels, she would like to think she deserves the human female need to vent and be a bitch for a little while before she goes to apologise.   

 

THEN

 

Cadet Uhura had not been a student in Commander Spock’s classes since the final semester of her junior year.  During this semester, she worked as his assistant.  A very prestigious opportunity, such positions usually went to doctorial or master’s level students.  Her efforts, which garnered the moniker “ice queen,” had paid off and she was now taking mostly graduate courses.

 

The end of the semester sneaked up on her and now she was helping the commander grade finals.  The only sound in the office was that of an old-fashioned wall clock, which hung there for decades, and the distant voices of others outdoors. 

 

“Commander, do you have plans for the holiday break?”  She asked, after a few moments of watching him work at his well-ordered desk.

 

The long fingers on his PADD stilled mid-movement and for a few seconds Uhura found herself captivated by their elegance.  She thought of him strumming a musical instrument, better yet, she pictured him strumming _her_.  When she raised her eyes to his face, he was watching her closely with dark eyes that missed absolutely nothing.  It was, with great effort that she was able to suppress her blush.

 

“I will be taking over Captain Kruger’s special project in light of her sudden illness.”

 

“Nothing fun then?”

 

“If by ‘fun’ you mean an activity intended to provide satisfaction, then it should be fun throughout the spring semester as well.”

 

“I meant,” she replied, saw his raised eyebrow and sighed.  “Oh, never mind.  What is the special project?”

 

He placed the PADD on his desk and Uhura’s eyes once again followed the movement of his fingers as he folded them.  She wondered if it were possible for someone to develop a finger fetish.  She was going to have to ask her roommate.

 

“Starfleet is developing a new subspace array.  I consulted briefly with the captain on her project at its inception.  Bringing it to fruition should prove rewarding.”

 

“Sounds great,” was all she could muster, given the fact that her brain was going to mush.  It must be the pressures of finals and researching her thesis.  What else could cause her mind to wander?

 

“I have requested to have you as an assistant on the project.  Of course, the final decision is subject to approval by the Division and the Admiralty.”

 

Uhura’s brain quickly returned to its regular consistency and her eyes to his. “Oh.”

 

The almost-smile he graced her with on four previous occasions, she was counting, was evident now.  A teasing gleam also suffused his eyes.  “Cadet, in view of your gift of communication, I thought your response would have been more verbose.”

 

This time she did blush, then thanked her parents for gracing her with darker skin.  It seemed that the evening called for rare occurrences.  “Sorry; thank you, sir.  I am truly flattered.”

 

“You have been an exemplary student with exceptional skills.  I would not have chosen you otherwise.”

 

The conversation changed to her plans to visit her parents and then they continued grading finals.  Much to the disgust of her friends, she existed in a happy bubble for the rest of the week.

 

During the break, she went to Africa.  Uhura enjoyed her father’s cooking and caught up on neighbourhood gossip from Mellie, who was now happily engaged to her business partner.  Her mother, a History professor complained that the current freshman class was incredibly unprepared to deal with university academic life.  Uhura laughed, her sister rolled amused eyes, and her father lightly patted his wife’s arm in support.  She’d made the same complaint every year for the past ten years and counting.  The following week she received a communiqué from Starfleet, letting her know she would be Commander Spock’s assistant on the subspace project.

 

On the early January night before she was to return to the Academy, her father joined her on the second floor veranda overlooking a well-kept garden.  “Have you heard whether you’ll get your wish to be on that fancy new ship you keep writing us about?”

 

Sipping warm red tea, she tipped her head to the sky and admired the stars.  “Nothing as yet,” she replied.

 

“What will you do if you don’t get it?”

 

“No Daddy, I will get it.  I’ve worked too hard to not get an onboard assignment.”

 

“I worry about you sometimes.”

 

“You know it has always been my dream.  To go out there and explore.”  She walked over to where he sat and rested a hand on his shoulders. 

 

“Space can be dangerous, Nyota.”  Therein lay the problem.  He worried for her safety out there.  She could never settle for a permanent planet-side assignment.  It was never going to happen.

 

 “I know it can be dangerous, which is why we have Starfleet.”

 

“Exactly my point,” he argued.

 

They watched the night for few more minutes before she went to bed.

 

***

 

Five graduate classes, a thesis, two TA positions, and Commander Spock’s special project left her little time to sleep and socialise.  Having to choose between Dance and Singing for artistic expression, she dropped Dance, besides Singing was easier on her body.  She also debated dropping the Xenolinguistics Club, in the end choosing to remain with it.

 

She stood up from her perch and took off her headset.  Her primary responsibility was to assist with testing the newly built subspace communications array.   A great deal of credits and time went into creating it.  Starfleet Command wanted to hear that their array was functioning at peak efficiency.  Unfortunately, the array had glitches, which occurred when they attempted to use it for reasons other than communication within Federation borders.  Captured sample signals were either distorted beyond translation or barely discernable among useless subspace noise.  A problematic development because its’ foremost purpose was to peer into subspace chatter going on outside Federation territory.

 

She yawned and stretched.  Her back ached and she felt grumpy.  It was close to midnight and she still had a thesis chapter to finish before she could get some sleep.  “Ridiculous, Nyota; it’s only mid-February, you can’t be this overwhelmed,” she muttered.

 

“Cadet, did you say something?” 

 

Vulcan ears, they heard everything.  “Nope, nothing, Commander,” she grumbled.

 

She catalogued the sample of readings she had been listening to and placed them on file for further review the following afternoon.  She took her jacket from the hook near the closed lab door and donned it.  The nights this week were chilly with a touch of frost.  She also wore a jumpsuit in lieu of her regular uniform for tonight’s lab assignment. 

 

Going back to her workstation, she adjusted the jacket zipper and picked up her bag.  A loud clang disrupted the quiet of the lab.   Her PADD, data disks and an assortment of other items fell from her bag and onto the tiled floor.  As she bent to retrieve her things, she heard the Commander’s voice.  She could not help but ignore him for what she clasped in her hands.

 

No. This could not happen; there had to be a reason. Things like these did not happen to her.  She had worked hard her whole life to get to this point and beyond to the best ship in the fleet.  Dimly she discerned a pair of mirror-shined black boots next to her knees.  When did she get to her knees? 

 

The mental fog receded a bit and she finally heard Commander Spock’s concerned words.  “Uhura, are you unwell?” 

 

She blinked; he was now kneeling next to her.  Uhura did not think it was normal to miss seconds of time.  She looked back at what was in her hands and there was no denying it.  Her PADD was broken, the one that housed the most recent copy of her thesis. 

 

“It’s broken,” she whispered, thrusting it into his hand.  “I added a chapter today and hadn’t backed it up.  I was waiting until after tonight’s edits.”

 

“You are referring to your thesis?”

 

“Yes,” she hissed and the tears spilt forth.  It was not a pretty sight since Cadet Nyota Uhura was not one to shed tears, a fact she prided herself on.

 

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the lab were the low humming equipment and her stilted sobs.  On a final hiccup, she looked up at him and could read his discomfort at observing her minor breakdown.  Great, she’d just embarrassed herself before a Vulcan.  “I am sorry.” 

 

“Apologies are not necessary.  Perhaps I can assist you with retrieving the data.”  He got to his feet and walked away.   She heard him opening and closing a drawer; then, tiny noises.

 

Gathering the rest of her things, she wiped her eyes and walked over to where he sat taking apart her broken PADD.  “You know; had I been thinking sensibly, I could probably be doing this right now.” 

 

“I do not doubt your capabilities, Cadet,” he replied while placing the hard drive into a new shell and sealing the edges.   “In the meantime, I will lessen your TA workload until the first draft of your thesis is completed.”

 

He recognized her display as having more to do with the pressures of her schedule than her broken PADD.  It finally dawned on her that he must care for her with something outside of his usual detachment and this was his logical way of showing it.  “Mr. Spock, I hope I am not offending you, but it is good to know Vulcans have feelings.”

 

His entire body stilled and she braced herself for a lecture on propriety.  Slowly, he turned to her and she saw more than she had ever seen before in his eyes and face.  It was not wildly blatant; nevertheless, it was shocking. 

 

“Uhura,” he said in a voice now deeper than normal.  “We feel, felt so much we almost annihilated ourselves with our passions.” 

 

The fingers she had developed a bit of a fetish for reached out and brushed away the last trickle of tears clinging to her left cheek.  Against her damp skin, they felt incredibly warm.  With utmost concentration, he moved outward to caress along the curve of her ear.  Now she was the one frozen in place, heart racing at dangerous speeds as her body registered happy feelings.   The image of Gaila smacking her in the head for being a sissy and doing nothing when she had wanted his touch for so long, snapped her into action. 

 

Her own slender brown fingers came up to meet his pale ones and she brought them to her lips.  She placed delicate kisses along those graceful fingers and watched a light shudder pass through his body.  With new wonder, she inched closer to him and his other hand moved to rest gently at her waist.  It felt right having it there.

   

“I feel.”

 

That was all.  There were no declarations of love and promises of happily ever after; however, Nyota Uhura was perfectly happy.

 

He tilted her face upward and she hardly had time to whisper, “I can see.”  His lips touched hers in a tentative gesture that was more about curious learning than passion.

 

The kiss ended and their noses touched lightly, neither of them stepping away.  She wondered if he would regret their kiss.  “Commander, Sir, I…”

 

“Under current circumstances, I believe, ‘Spock’ will suffice.”

 

“Well then, Spock, you may call me Nyota.” 

 

This time she initiated their kiss and nothing about it was tentative.  She felt his lips part against her own.  His hands found their way to her back and pressed her tightly into his body.  Her fingers travelled along his arms and shoulders, coming to rest at his neck.  It was glorious indeed, to feel him match her passion then add to it.  Reality, she thought, was much better than fantasy.


	3. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you enjoy this chapter. Of all the chapters, I found this one the most difficult to write. Something about putting myself in Spock's mindset for this chapter was a bit challenging.

NOW

 

Dawn’s golden rays leisurely climb the horizon, as he eases himself from five hours of deep meditation into full awareness.  Spock’s mind is once again an orderly arranged landscape where his emotions are properly contained.  His experience the previous evening as he worked to prevent what looked to be their untimely demise had unsettled him.  He knows and accepts that death can come at any time.  In those moments, however, he was certainly not ready to succumb.  It was the notion of having not accomplished all his goals, which had troubled him at the time.  He also found that he wished to share many more experiences with Nyota Uhura.

 

As he rises to his feet, his gaze immediately seeks her out.  She is asleep, her body curled inward, atop a blanket.  Anxious lines pull at her lips and crease her brow, a testament to her troubled sleep.  She returned from her solitary contemplation in the early morning hours, apologised for her heated words, and then promptly fell into exhausted sleep.  

 

Spock’s first order of business is Ensign Mariah Hartmann who tenaciously holds onto her life.  She woke once earlier, after the mild sedative wore off.  In her delirium, she repeatedly called for someone name Delilah.  He kneels beside her and brushes a finger across her ashen forehead.  The clammy skin feels feverish from her body’s fight to sustain itself. 

 

His medical knowledge is not comparable to Lieutenant Uhura’s but he can still be of assistance.  What he is about to attempt, he could not do without first smoothing out the emotional patches within his psyche.  Even now, there is some degree of risk.  As part of his mental training, he learned how to assist in his own healing.  His teachers did not consider it necessary for him to learn how to heal others.  His private readings on the subject informed him that many of the same principles of self-healing extended toward aiding the healing of another. 

 

His fingers find Hartmann’s meld points and he creates a light connection.  A mental backdrop of various shades of slow-moving grey greets him upon his arrival into her mind.  Bright flashes of colour flicker in and out, as her consciousness becomes aware of his gentle intrusion.  Bits of colour and grey coalesce into a pale representation of her physical self.   She regards him warily, not wholly trusting his actions.  _“I mean you no harm,”_ he assures her.

 

 _“Why are you here?  How can you even be in here?”_   Her voice is thin and breathy from the effort of speaking.

 

 _“We are engaged in a Vulcan mind-meld.  I wish only to render assistance, Ensign.”_   She is still and quiet for a few moments, then she nods.  He continues, _“I am not a trained healer.  Nevertheless, I can give you a few more hours if you would allow me.”_

 

She nods in assent of his offer and steps back.  Into the grey, a small spark of intensely coloured hope blossoms within her mind.  Spock immediately strengthens their connection and goes to work directing all her healing energy toward the most damaged areas.  Instinctive resistance push at him, as her body fights to continue aiding all injuries.  He counters by focusing his own energies on the less injured areas, willing them to mend faster.  Minutes later, after he has done all he could, he begins to withdraw.  He reroutes some of her energies back to the areas he worked on and smoothly severs their connection. 

 

Leaving Hartmann to her slumber, he heads to the front of the shuttle and checks the storm’s progress.  It has finally thinned out enough to allow their signal to pass through.  Off-world communication is now possible.  Shuttle or transporter travel is still hours away.  He rechecks their distress beacon; it is functioning at peak efficiency.  The signal is clearly broadcasting to any ship within the vicinity of J7900’s solar system. 

 

Satisfied, he goes to get water and discovers that only two bottles remain.  They had expected their trip back to the Enterprise to last five hours and that expectation is reflected in their limited supplies.  Additionally, this model shuttle did not come equipped with a food synthesizer.  He gathers four empty bottles and decides a trip to the water source Uhura detected is needed.  Collecting his tricorder and phaser, he leaves the craft, heading out into the bright morning light. 

 

After a brisk walk northeast, he finds a medium-size creek that feeds out to a larger source.  Mild ripples reflect a multitude of sparkling colours on crystal-clear water that is deep enough for swimming.  Steps from the water’s edge, short wide-trunk trees, small brown shrubbery, and green grass dot the rocky ground.  In light of the previous night’s seismic activity, Spock scans the water.  He is relieved to find that it is still safe for usage.  He fills the bottles, places them against a protruding rock, and then proceeds to undress.  First, he removes his blue tunic, then black undershirt, boots, and pants.  A cool breeze caresses his skin as he walks into the waist-deep water.  Mindful of his own injuries, he immerses his entire body in the unpleasantly chilled water.  Rinsing away day-old grime from his body is worth the minor discomfort.

 

Once out of the water, he removes as much of the wetness as he can without a towel and redresses.  He sits on a patch of grass tugging on his boots when the ground shakes and heaves beneath him for fourteen point six seconds.  He does not need his tricorder to tell him that this occurrence surpasses the tremors they experienced since crashing.   He endeavours to hurry back to the site.

 

Uhura is awake, sitting on the boulder they claimed the night before.  Absorbed with her tricorder readings, she does not notice him immediately.  Spock studies her appearance.  Under the sunlight, her legs display a series of dark bruises that are worse than he imagined.  The boots on her feet are partially zipped.  He is about to point out the illogic of not zipping up her boots, but she glances up and beats him to it.  He is not sure if he should be amused or annoyed.

 

“I want them this way,” she says, a tender half-smile replacing the grim shadows on her face.

 

“Why do you assume I would comment on the state of your boots?”

 

“I know well how your mind works.”

 

He feels his eyebrow travel in the direction of his wet hairline.  “Really, Nyota, I would like to think, I am more complex than that.” 

 

“Don’t worry Spock; you are one of the most complicated individuals I have ever met.  That aside, I have come to understand you pretty well.”  Her smile melts away and she adds, “Which is why my words last night were uncalled for.”

 

“I accepted your previous apology.  Repeating yourself is not necessary.”

 

She leans forward, zips up her boots and returns her gaze to him.  Her eyes travel upward and she is once again smiling.  “The slicked-back look suits you.”  Her smiles take a teasing glint. “Might you consider a change of hairstyle?”

 

This is not the first time she has commented on his choice of hairstyle.  “Most certainly not, my hair is styled in the time honoured manner for the Vulcan male with my hair texture.”  

 

Together they return to the shuttle, her amusement still very much evident.  Once there, he puts away the water and sits beside her.  She has set aside the tricorder and is adjusting the distress beacon.  He knows there is nothing to adjust.  She simply wants to feel useful.  He too can read her, although he will never admit that she is better at understanding him.  There are parts of her that may forever remain a mystery.

 

She swivels her chair and faces him.  “At least we’re being heard.  I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get off this planet before that volcano blows.”

 

“I share your sentiment.  The storm continues to increase in radius causing further deterioration and widening in the already weakened sections.  This fragility should allow shuttle transport before the storm leaves the system.”

 

“You sound hopeful, Spock.”

 

“You taught me it is normal to entertain that emotion, temporarily, at the correct time.”

 

“You really know what to say to cheer a girl up.”

 

“I was merely expressing what I know to be the truth.” 

 

She reaches over and brushes her lips against his left cheek. “And that’s what makes it all the more special.”

 

He does not regard his words as particularly special; nevertheless, if she wishes to view them as such, he will not argue the issue.  He meant what he said; she once showed him how to hope again, and for the rest of his life, he will savour that knowledge.

 

THEN

 

 _I am now a member of an endangered species._  His own words, spoken four weeks ago, haunted him.  He could still hear the confused psychic screams of over six billion who perished at the hands of a vengeful Romulan.  He had also felt the barely-there betrothal bond to T’Pring snap.  Only days earlier they had agreed to dissolve their marital obligations.  She had found someone else she wanted as husband, much to his relief.  Most of all, the terror in his mother’s expressive eyes still lashed at him.

 

From Cadet, soon to be Captain Kirk, he discovered that the Federation was not meant to know of Romulus’ connection to Vulcan for another nine years.  The mysterious Ambassador Spock piqued his curiosity, as he speculated on what events had changed and what remained constant.  In his troubled meditations, he wondered if Nero’s arrival and actions twenty-five years prior might not have made his childhood on Vulcan more difficult than intended.  The wounds of the Earth-Romulan War were relatively fresh in humanity’s collective consciousness.  He imagined it created a Human backlash to all things Vulcan, which resulted in increased xenophobia on Vulcan.  While his father was not the first Vulcan to form a union with a Human, his was at an inopportune time. 

 

Standing at the tall narrow window of his office, he could see a number of cadets and instructors rushing to get out of the pouring early summer showers. Their number was significantly less than should be, another reminder of Nero and his crew’s special madness.  Tiring of this activity, he returned to his desk and commenced grading final assignments.  Academia and Starfleet must go on.

 

In the paled normalcy that was now Academy life, he felt adrift.  His fury at Nero and the senseless loss were burning outside the boundaries of acceptable Vulcan control.  Worse yet, it linked intrinsically with his sorrow.  He spoke to his father before they disembarked from the Enterprise and Sarek advised he increase his daily meditation.  Extra rounds of hand-to-hand combat in the gym, suggested by his mentor, Christopher Pike, handled his frustration, but not the root problem.  Uhura, in her own roundabout way hinted that he should consult with a psychotherapist.  He did not tell her that Starfleet Central twice _strongly_ recommended counselling.

 

There was also the matter of his relationship with Nyota Uhura.  When settlement on a new Vulcan home planet began, he would join his people.  It was the logical thing to do, and he doubted she would join him.  A small selfish part of him wished for her to accompany him, just so he would have her warm presence at his side.  However, such wanting would deprive her of her posting on the Enterprise and he could not ask that of her.

 

Task completed, he entered the grades into a web-grading system for dispersal into his students’ records.  Once he submitted the grades for Advance Phonology tomorrow, his semester would be over. Cadet Uhura would be grading those finals.

 

Back at his quarters the temperature was adjusted a few degrees cooler than Vulcan norm.  A concession to his expected visitor.  He was in the midst of swapping his damp uniform for Starfleet navy blue sweats when he heard his door opened and closed.

 

In his living room, Nyota was in the process of taking off her boots.  Tucked away beside his door was a dripping raincoat and umbrella. “Good evening Spock.  I finished my grading.”  She gestured to the PADD placed neatly on his desk.  “There were a few surprises.” 

 

“Good evening, Nyota.”  Instead of going to his desk, he joined her on the sofa. “How is your roommate?”

 

“Gaila is improving.  The doctors think her eyesight should return one hundred percent by the end of summer.  Skin regeneration has removed the last of her burn scars.”

 

“I am pleased to hear this,” He responded.  She too suffered losses.  Only two close friends not on board the Enterprise survived.  Gaila, the more injured of the two, had managed to escape the Trident before its destruction.

 

The hushed splatter of rain filled his quiet quarters and for a few minutes, they were satisfied with listening to it.  Uhura once told him that this activity was soothing to the self.  It seemed to help her, judging by the way that she relaxed into his sofa.

 

“My father is insisting that I take a planet-side position.”  Spock knew well her father’s initial reluctance at having his youngest offspring travel space as part of a militaristic organisation.  Her comment did not surprise him.

 

“Have you considered his request?”  He was curious to hear her answer.

 

 She stretched her legs, and then placed her feet on his pristine coffee table.  He disapproved and was about to ask her to remove them, except the smooth length of flesh was suddenly distracting.  Of their own accord, his fingers began to stroke lazy circles around her left knee.  Her eyes closed and a small sigh escaped from her lips. 

 

“There isn’t much to consider.  I have dreamt of going to the stars since I was a young child, there is no stopping me now.”

 

“Your single-minded drive is remarkable.”  He continued his caresses and her eyes opened to study his fingers on her leg.  He had noticed months ago, before their intimate relationship commenced, that she seemed taken with them.

 

“What about you Spock?  I heard most Vulcans will move to the new home-world once it is found.”

 

Spock pondered in amazement her ability to acquire information not widely circulated.  “The Elders requested that every Vulcan join the rebuilding effort.  They are calling to those on distant research missions and far flung colonies.”

 

“We don’t have much time left, do we?”  The serene tone of her words spoke of her acceptance.  The smile twisting her lips did nothing to conceal her sadness.  He noted too, her lack of asking to accompany him. 

 

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”      

 

“Don’t ever forget what I asked you in the turbolift.  I am here until you have to leave.”

 

Uhura’s sincerity and sublimed love was too much for him.  Memories of his mother’s human affection for his father and himself surfaced.  Her quiet laughter at things she found amusing.  He remembered she sometimes made observational comments that other Vulcans deemed borderline scandalous.  She was vivacious among a people that were not.  She was his beautiful, brilliant mother and he missed her deeply.  No more letters would await him when he missed her calls. 

 

The sorrow and fury slipped their tattered compartments to slice viciously at him.  For a being used to a rigidly ordered mind, he felt as if he was drowning in this sea of roiling emotions.  A pained sound escaped his lips and he heard Nyota’s voice. “Spock.”

 

“Spock!”  She had climbed over him, her legs straddling his thighs.  Startled, he was not aware of her movement and this too was disturbing.

 

“Nyota, please…”  He sounded desperate to his own ears.

 

“What is it?”  She took his face into her hands.  Her concern bordered on panic.  He could see it on her face and feel it leach into his skin.  “Your emotions, especially your rage and grief are pushing at me.  What’s happening?”

 

He had not lost control like this in years.  Clutching her hips desperately he whispered, “I need you tonight.”

 

Confusion etched her brow, she responded, “You always have me, Spock.”

 

His grip was tighter now, his words harsh.  “I need your mind and your body.”  Her fingers started to caress his ears, an attempt to soothe.  It had the opposite effect.  He welcomed the heat that flushed his body.  “And, I cannot be gentle.”    

 

“Even when we get a little rough you have been holding back, haven’t you?”

 

“Yes.”  His hands began to travel along her thighs ending up under her short uniform skirt.

 

She leaned forward and grazed his lips with hers. “Don’t then.”

 

Spock heard what he needed to hear.  He pulled her closer and attacked her lips with a brutal kiss.  She matched his ferocity with a bruising return.  When her fingers dug into his scalp, he moved from her lips, gracing her neck with biting kisses intended to mark.   She gasped his name and drew his mouth back to hers.  Frantically their lips fused in a searing kiss.

 

Securing her in his arms, he rose to his feet.   Her legs curled around his midsection and locked behind his back.  Spock was halfway to his bedroom when he registered a spike in her desire and heart rate.  “You enjoy my carrying you?”

 

“It’s a female thing,” she replied, nuzzling his neck. 

 

He stored away this information and the tantalizing scenarios it inspired for later usage.  He resumed kissing her and thanked his ability to multitask. 

 

Once she was kneeling on his bed, swollen lips parted in anticipation, the last of his control fell away.  The chaos in his mind swirled and swelled, yet his focus on her remained steadfast.  He really desired to touch all of her.  He stepped back and took a deep breath, attempting to centre himself.  He was hardly successful.

 

“Please take down your hair and undress.”

 

A wicked smile blossomed onto her face as she removed each article of clothing with torturously slow precision.  He did not think it was necessary for her to spend eleven point sixteen seconds removing her bra.  He had seen her do it in five.  She was beautiful in low light that spilled from his ceiling.  She also needed to work faster.  He clasped his hands behind his back and moved forward until his legs touched the bed.  “Your hair, Nyota, take it down _now_ ,” he commanded.

 

Her eyes widened, and then narrowed at his tone.  She instantly released the hair from its ponytail.  He took a moment to admire all of her.  The fall of her hair, flat toned stomach, small pert breasts, flaring hips, long legs, and smooth skin that housed a few flaws.

 

“Your turn,” she stated, as she stretched her body across his red sheets.  He had begun buying them in bold colours because he admired the way their vibrancy complimented her skin tone.  He was Vulcan, not dead to all things beautiful.

 

Spock immediately shed his clothing and joined her.  With shaking fingers, he found her meld points and silently intoned the words required to join their minds.  They had done this before, but this time there is no gentle easing into it.  This time, they connected with jagged urgency.  Her body jerked with the terrible intensity of his turmoil.  Within their linked minds, she initially bowed to the onslaught.  He was afraid she could not handle it; however, she squared her mental shoulders and faced him.  With compassion, she reached out and embraced him with body and mind.

 

He was cognizant of caressing her with blunt nails instead of the sensitive pads of his fingers.  He used his lips and tongue to relieve those welts only to place stinging kisses along her shoulders, breasts, and stomach.  Her sharp manicured nails raked his back deep enough to bleed.  He found it wildly exciting and abandoned himself to the pain.  She saw and felt his enjoyment and proceeded to inflict more.

 

The fingers that found her wet entrance were forceful and sure.  They built her up to his level of dark desire.   The storm within reached its zenith and he joined their bodies with a hard thrust.  Her legs encircled his hips as she groaned in pleasured pain.  Remembering her needs, he slowed his movements.  “I won’t break,” she panted against his shoulder.   

 

His eyes opened and his gaze found the dark depths of hers.  Reflected there was every emotion she fed into their connection.  He increased the pace and force.  Their fingers intertwined beside her head.  Her mind anchored him as much as her body did.  “I have you, my love.  I have you,” she spoke the soft words into his mind and ears.

 

Their sweat-dampened bodies moved faster now, he could see the storm of fury and sorrow begin to dissipate.  A bright golden ray of hope bathed his mental landscape and he knew it was her doing.  She offered him something to combat the chaos.  Hope for his people, hope for himself no matter his choices.   Overwhelmed by her gift, he showed her how much she meant to his existence.  How much he would miss her when he left Starfleet.  Spock observed her delighted acceptance of what she saw.  He watched her wrap it around her sadness.  Then all he could do was _feel_ as her tight body squeezed him in climax.  He had no choice but to follow.

 

After a time, Spock lifted himself onto his elbows and stared into Nyota’s radiant face.  Able once more to form coherent words, he whispered, “Thank you.”   

 

The following afternoon they stood together on the lawns of the Vulcan Embassy, waiting for the memorial ceremony to begin.   At this time, on this alien world, Vulcan survivors gathered to honour their brethren and non-Vulcans who died both on and off their planet.  The day was clear and hot with a light wind, which brushed against his sombre robes.  Nyota too dressed in dark colours, a black pantsuit.  The airy cream blouse underneath had a high lace embellished collar. 

 

Spock’s emotional control was still incomplete.  With Nyota’s help and long hours of meditation, he started to recreate order in the cracked patches of mental landscape.  He remained somewhat uncomfortable with regard to his treatment of her the previous evening.  It was alarming to see the amount of bruising on her skin.  When he expressed his unease, she reminded him that she did enjoy herself, while pointing to his back and shoulders.

 

His father and Admiral Pike were to his left, each man deep in thought, as the ceremony commenced with the thunderous sound of a gong.  When silence resumed, Vulcan’s greatest living Elder started speaking.  Her words, ancient and eloquent, resonated with him. 

 

Nyota’s fingers discretely brushed his hand and he looked down at her.  A tiny smile touched her lips as she directed his eye with a tilt of her head.  Unbeknownst to him, James Kirk, Pavel Chekov, Leonard McCoy, Hikaru Sulu, Montgomery Scott and a few of his cadets, attired in dress uniforms, stood together near the exit.  Astonished, he wondered how he had missed their arrival.  Their unexpected attendance was most appreciated.  Returning his gaze to the Elder he heard Nyota murmur, “Hope manages.”

 

He agreed.


	4. Horror

**NOW**

The strong tremor beneath her feet causes Lieutenant Uhura to stumble and clutch the chair at her right.  Last night she reported to Commander Spock that the volcano sitting ominously within their sights is active.  Too occupied at the time, she did not grasp the true implication of her initial readings.   An Earth native, she is aware that volcanoes could live in active mode for centuries without major eruption.  Unfortunately, the one next to them had other ideas.

 

After her morning swim, much of the day involves working with Spock to obtain a clearer picture of the surrounding area.  Without sophisticated tools, their efforts are restricted.  Nevertheless, tricorder analysis is sufficient to paint a dire picture.  The constant shifting of the planet’s crust is adding to the instability of the volcano.  As if to seek validation of their findings, a loud roar disrupts the early afternoon.  She looks at Spock who is standing at the entrance of the shuttle, eyes focused on the towering volcano.  “I’m afraid to ask what that was.”

 

“That was a minor gas and tephra expulsion,” he replies, still intent on watching.    

 

It takes her moments of riffling through her memories of high school geology to remember that tephra is another name for volcanic ash.   Coming to stand beside him, she peers skyward and can see a thick bone-white cloud hovering just above the mountain’s peak.  “How will it affect us down here?”

 

“Such a small eruption will not have much of an effect on the environment.  Look at the fall pattern.”  He gestures to the cloud.  “Most of it will likely land atop the dome.”

 

“If there’s a dome, then that means the volcano only has small eruptions.”

 

“That appears to have been the case.  Even so, our scans show that the shifting fault lines have resulted in an upward surge of high viscosity magma.  My concern is that when it combines with the building gas pressure, there will be an explosion powerful enough to destroy the dome.” 

 

“Like Krakatau on Earth?”

 

“Krakatau’s and Anak Krakatau’s final eruptions each obliterated the entire cone, affecting planetary climate and oceanic behaviour.  I doubt such an event will occur here.”

 

“It might not, but our circumstances are still depressing.”

 

Depressing is a mild way of putting it.  They are essentially stuck.  To get to a safer location, would take days of walking unprotected across the expansive rocky terrain.  They could never survive an eruption out there.  If they stay where they are, the shuttle’s shield will offer protection.  The price of that protection is rapid burnout of remaining power.  There is also Hartmann to consider.  Simply moving the ensign to a more secure section within the shuttle had been a delicate operation.

 

Additional growling reverberates around them, this time without ejection.  In the midst of the noise, a beeping sound seizes their attention.  They look at each other, and then hurriedly walk to the viewscreen.  Static follows the beeping and an out-of-focused image wobbles into view.  With skilful fingers, she makes a few minor adjustments, establishing a clear image and sound.

 

“Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, Ensign Hartmann, please respond.”  Uhura has never been this glad to hear or see her beta shift replacement.

 

“We’re here, Lieutenant Saunders.”

 

A warm smile curves Saunders’ lips.  “Please stand by for the Captain.”

 

The image switches to a relieved James T. Kirk.  Right behind his chair is a very worried-looking Dr. Leonard McCoy.  “Mr. Spock, Lieutenant, you two had us worried for a bit.  How are you?”

 

“The Lieutenant and I are fine, Captain.  We encountered a powerful ion storm, which caused power loss to our shuttle,” Spock replies.  “Ensign Hartmann was seriously injured and is in need of emergency care.”

 

“At current speed, Enterprise is about twenty-five minutes from your location.  We’ve been monitoring the storm; both Mr. Scott and Ensign Chekov think beam out is currently impossible.”

 

 “Indeed, Captain.  The storm’s interference would cause our patterns to scatter, were you to make an attempt at this time.  Have long range sensors picked up current planet-side conditions?”

 

“Yes they have.  We’re reading seismic instability.”

  

“We are also within the blast radius of an active volcano.  And Captain,” Spock pauses, and breathes deeply.

 

“Yes, Mr. Spock?”

 

“All readings indicate a major eruption within the next twenty-four hours.”

 

Uhura observes the flash of apprehension that crosses the captain’s face before his pleasant professional mask reasserts itself.   “Hopefully, we won’t have to worry about that, not after our experience on Hydan.”

 

Dr. McCoy steps from behind the captain’s chair to stand beside it.  His brown eyes scrutinising and cataloguing their visible bruising, he comments, “Neither of you look okay.  Have you been able to care for Hartmann?”

 

Uhura smiles slightly at the doctor even though humour is the furthest thing from her mind.  Offering him a smile, she learned, is a great way of getting him to be a little more amicable.  “The Commander and I sustained minor injuries.  I am doing my best at tending to Ensign Hartmann’s injuries, but my first aid skills are hardly adequate.” 

 

“How serious are they?” he questions, inching closer to the screen, almost blocking Kirk.  “Is she conscious?  Is there infection?”

 

“Injuries to the head, chest—”

 

A particularly violent rumble forces the ground to heave and with it the shuttle.   Another follows, and she can hear the eerie sound of earth splitting apart around them.   The strength of it rips her fingers loose of their tight grip on the chair in front of her console, hurtling her backward.  Time and space warp in her mind.  She is airborne for an eternity, then reality snaps, and she slams full force into a wall.  The impact knocks the air from her lungs, sends pain shooting along her back, shoulders, and head.   As she sinks boneless into the floor, a low moan escapes her lips.

 

Spock immediately scrambles to her side; disquiet etching his brow into deep lines.  He kneels, his hand grasping tightly at hers.  “Nyota?”

 

Uhura blinks and sucks in a deep breath.  In the background, she can hear McCoy and Kirk voicing their alarm.  She returns pressure to Spock’s fingers and answers, “I’m going to be fine.  Just need a second to catch my breath.”

 

“Are you certain?”    

 

“Positive.”

 

Not leaving her side, he stands and faces the viewscreen.  “Captain, our situation is rapidly deteriorating.”

 

A response never comes because the ground spasms and shakes once more, sending Spock back to his knees.  And that is a very good thing, as seconds later, a large boulder crashes into the front of the shuttle.  It effectively crushes the viewscreen and console into twisted metal.  The absolute horror of what might have happened had they still been standing at the front of the craft, strikes her with as much force as her fall.  Such a senseless death is unacceptable, not on any banal mission, and certainly not on this insignificant planet.  With purpose, she pushes the terror down and reaches for Spock.  His wide gaze swings from the crumpled metal to capture hers.  A faint shadow of his shock reflects in their depths.  It is very clear that his thoughts mirror hers.

 

“As much as I’m grateful for our tumble, I don’t know how many more knocks I can take in less than twenty-four hours.”

 

Assisting her into a sitting position, he responds, “We should begin work on our shield modifications, and then seek a safer location.”

 

They both rise to their feet and Uhura cannot help but stare at the spot where she had landed.  Never in her life has she ever been thankful for sustaining a nasty fall.  The Captain had mentioned Hydan before Dr. McCoy inserted his voice into their report.  Somehow, she doesn’t think that could compare to what they are currently experiencing.  She looks up and replies, “Sounds like a plan, Commander.”

 

  **THEN**

 Seven months into their five-year mission, the crew of the Enterprise encountered their first major debacle.  The assignment started out peacefully on a hot desert world reminiscent of Earth’s Middle Eastern region.  Hydan, the fourth of six planets orbiting a young yellow star, sought entry into the Federation.  After a two-year investigation, the government and the Federation were both eager to have all parties sign on the proverbial dotted line. 

 

The Enterprise was to represent the Federation and Starfleet, while providing escort for Ambassador Antonio Reyes and his aide, Marlon Kelley.  Ambassador Reyes had years of distinguished experience in diplomacy.   He had participated in some of the most successful treaties brokered between the Federation and non-member worlds.  Through discreet communications contacts, Lieutenant Uhura discovered that this was to be his last mission before retirement.  The bureaucrats at Federation Headquarters anticipated that within days, they would have Hydan within the fold.  She was not a cynic; however, like the rest of the bridge crew, she knew what the underground tunnels of Hydan meant to the Federation.  There was a good reason for wanting this planetary addition.

 

Upon closer inspection, Hydan was sixty percent hot desert with cool north and south poles.  Current planetary population was under one billion with most cities above or below the equator.  Her review of previous encounters among Federation ships and the Hydians, suggested a people who were warm and generally friendly to visitors.  The only taboo was that of outsiders touring their tunnels.  Only once had they allowed visitors into one of the major arteries, a concession to Federation insistence.

 

The evening after the Enterprise initiated standard orbit, there was preparation for a formal reception on the planet.  Standing before her floor length mirror, Uhura adjusted the stiff high collar of her dress uniform for a third time.  The last time she had worn this uniform, she’d attended her official promotion ceremony.  It had been a bittersweet day for her.  She remembered exhilaration pounding in her veins at officially receiving her commission.  She also remembered the gentle sorrow that lurked beneath, threatening to cast shadows over her special day.  As much as she lived and breathed Enterprise, she wished to share it with Spock. 

 

At the end of that first shift, after he had surprised her and the rest of the bridge crew by coming aboard, Spock had explained to her, his ‘logical’ change of heart.  Four days, and a series of subspace inquiries later, she managed to track down Ambassador Spock.  He listened and answered all her questions with an infinite patience her own Spock had yet to achieve.  Before they ended their conversation, she thanked him, but he told it was not necessary, for he had only advised his younger self to do what felt right.

 

A bit more adjusting and she gave up on the collar.  At least the skirt was longer than her standard uniform, and the gold edgings complimented her skin tone.  One last dab of berry tinted lip-gloss, and she was ready for tonight’s festivities.  Most of all she would have the opportunity to immerse herself in the planetary lingua franca.  Khalrish Proper was a language that sounded almost lyrical to her ear.  Studied from a linguistic perspective, she could see the same poetic essence in much of their culture. 

 

When she arrived at the transporter room, Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, and Lieutenant Sulu waited for her and the diplomatic duo.  They each wore their dress uniforms, and Uhura was not ignorant of how lucky she was to be the only female officer among such male beauty.  With shameless admiration, her eyes wandered over each one of them before settling on Spock. 

 

“Good evening gentlemen.”

 

“Uhura, you look splendid tonight.”

 

She smiled, caught Spock’s raised eyebrow, then shifted her attention to a smiling Sulu.  “Thank you, Hikaru.  I must say the same applies to you three.”

 

“I’ve been told that with some effort, I can look presentable.”  Kirk said in his driest tone.  She laughed, knowing very well that even bruised and battered, he would look good enough to seduce almost anyone. 

 

The banter halted as Reyes and Kelley entered the room.  The six of them stepped onto the transporter pads, while the technician adjusted the transporter controls.   Uhura watched the room fade into nothingness one instant, and then the next instant she was planet-side.  Before them stood First Minister Ghyden, leader of the Federal Government and his entourage of six.

 

The First Minister was a short slender male with midnight dark skin and white hair like every other native of Hydan.  Outwardly he looked almost human, though his muscle mass and skin were denser, his skull longer.   He bowed while touching his forehead with the fingers of his left hand.  “Greetings friends, may your visit be fruitful for all of us.”

 

“A hope we all share,” Ambassador Reyes replied, mimicking the greeting.

 

General introductions followed, and Uhura learned that of the six individuals with Ghyden, the tall muscular male was his younger brother and Education Minister, the female, his wife.  The four remaining men were no mystery to the Enterprise crew.  Their demeanour and blank faces positively screamed personal guard.

 

Escorted from the beam down site, the landing party found themselves walking in a courtyard that boasted a multitude of plants bred to thrive in the harsh environment.  Uhura was sure that both Sulu and Spock would find them of interest.  As they made their way across the sandstone walkway that led to the banquet hall, Education Minister Akhet fell into step beside her.  “May I join you, Lieutenant Uhura?”

 

“By all means, Minister,” she said, noticing for the first time that his eyes were warm amber, instead of black like the other Hydians’.  “I am actually looking forward to practicing Khalrish with a native speaker.”

 

“Excellent.” 

 

A wonderful conversationalist, Akhet answered her questions about the difference in society among the northern and southern cities.  He was also very curious about Earth history, and the loose cohesion of cultures.  “Have you always gotten along?”

 

“No.  Earth has a violent history of warfare that included three world wars and one based on eugenics.”

 

Arriving at intricately carved wooden doors, they slipped into companionable silence.  Two of the guards went ahead, one touched a side panel, and the doors swung opened.  Attendants greeted them, leading the group into an airy hall with arched high ceilings.  Wide soaring windows dominated each side of the hall.  Under the light of a multitude of stars, Uhura could see a wind patterned dune.  Ahead of the sands, she saw the outline of the sparkling city of Khaldan.

 

“This building,” Akhet said, nodding to the whimsically carved walls.  His face displaying proud appreciation, he proceeded, “is one our oldest.  Many thousand cycles ago, a band of workers gathered their resources and built this ceremonial hall in honour of their leader.”

 

Uhura took in the detailed wall designs, delicate gold painted vines, running below carefully preserved wooden beams, and the polished limestone floors.  “Their leader must have been a remarkable and well loved individual.”

 

“He treated all of his people fairly, bringing prosperity to his kingdom.  Old songs from this region tell of his prowess in all deeds, especially with women. ” He laughed softly.  “Of course some of these stories might just be good propaganda.”

 

“Of course,” she replied.

 

They mingled for a few more minutes, chatting with other guests.  Non-alcoholic drinks that tasted similar to ripened tamarind were served by men and women dressed in flowing gauzy white robes.  Eventually, the First Minister summoned the attendees to a set banquet table.    

 

She gazed up the line of lavishly presented food, noticing Spock, Kirk, and Ghyden in deep discussion.  It occurred to her that since arriving planet-side, she and Spock had not interacted at all.  As if feeling her gaze on him, he raised his head and glanced her way.  He nodded, and then returned his attention to the First Minister.  Sulu, Reyes, and the Commerce Minister, the only female who held a major authority position, raptly followed a humorous tale spun by Kelley.

 

Akhet sipped his drink and resumed their earlier conversation.  She found that she was enjoying his harmless flirting.  “Lieutenant Uhura, you were saying that on Earth many wars occurred among your people.  What were the root causes?”

 

“Our recorded history is littered with almost every imaginable reason for conflict.  Sometimes it stemmed from hatred, fear, economic crisis, or a bride running off to marry the son of the neighbouring tribal leader.”

 

“So at times, these conflicts started over trivial matters?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes.  On occasion war was a means to save face while plundering the enemy.”

 

He digested this information before replying.  “We have never had such warfare among my people.  The only time I can think of goes back to the founding of Hydan as you see it.  It is said that two families, one worker, the other priest, warred for hundreds of years, until the sands ran purple and the underworld grew crowded.  Yet they fought, gripped by the insanity of battle-lust, and then one day no one physically capable was left to fight.”      

 

“How horrible.” 

 

“Some view this story as myth.  A cautionary anecdote to keep us well behaved.  Recently history scholars have found enough clues to accept that there is some truth to it.”

 

“What is your opinion?”

  

“I believe, Lieutenant, that there’s more truth than anyone is willing to acknowledge.”

 

She detected a certain bit of something intangible, hidden in between his actual words and the tone of his voice.  He believed; nevertheless, there was an undercurrent to it.  Deciding to change the subject of their conversation, they spoke of his childhood in a political family.  She spent the rest of the meal conversing about pleasant topics with both Akhet and the Commerce Minister seated to her right.      

 

For the after-meal entertainment, Uhura found herself seated next to Spock on plush floor cushions.  Again, she was thankful for the longer skirt of her dress uniform.  “What’s your impression so far?”  She asked in low voice.

 

“They appear as enthusiastic for Federation membership as all reports indicated.”

 

“Did you sense anything off in any of your conversations?”

 

Spock looked thoughtfully at her for a beat then responded, “No.  The ministers and their spouses all had the same air of excited anticipation.  Has someone said something to raise your suspicion?”

 

That was the problem; no one said anything out of place.  It was just Akhet’s words and a niggling feeling.  “No.  I think my overactive imagination is running wild.”

 

“We can examine your concerns later.”

 

The lights dimmed and wall torches sprung to life.  The sound of slow melodic strings wafted into the hall.  Right behind it was a curvaceous amber-eyed woman.  Her lithe, strategically covered body swayed to every note flowing around her.  Deeper, faster moving strings joined the melody, changing the tone from sweet to sensuous and with it, the dancer’s movements.  Her body now swayed, spun, and bent in ways meant to entice and titillate.  Uhura leaned into Spock and whispered, “Why is it that on the majority of planets we visit, there are scantily clad female dancers?”

 

“Perchance it is that they have more in the way of charms to offer.”

 

She inhaled swiftly and looked up at him with narrowed eyes.  “Is that so, Commander?”

 

Still utterly focused on the performance, he continued as if she had never interrupted.  “However, none are as charming as you, Lieutenant.”

 

“Better not be,” she replied sweetly, returning her attention to the woman who was now writhing on the floor.  She was not one to judge the norms of a new society, yet she found it hard to characterise these new moves as dance.  Sensuous had turned into vulgar.  She found it even more disturbing when the dancer shifted her attention to Spock, brazenly running her sharp fingernails against his folded legs.  Uhura wanted to snatch them away from what she considered hers, but this was Federation business, and she was a Starfleet Officer.  She would not embarrass herself and all she represented.   She glared into sly amber eyes and sighed.  At least she could take comfort in knowing that the festivities were almost over.   

  

*****

The next morning as the hot sun settled over the city of Khaldan, the Enterprise contingent and Ambassador Reyes took their places on the transporter pads.  The transporter room and technician vanished, and they materialised beyond the gates of the First Minister’s palace.  Khaldan sparkled with a different beauty from the previous night.  This time, glass, metal and quartzes joined stone and wood, to display a city of radiant colour.  Tall wide trunk trees stretched out giant branches, creating cool pieces of shade.  Awed, they all paused to admire their surroundings. 

 

“Impressive,” Lieutenant Sulu commented shielding his eyes, while studying the building across the sandstone walk path.  Their reverie was short lived, however, as the ground rumbled beneath and a boom split the air above.   

 

“What was that?”  Captain Kirk questioned, pulling Reyes with him until they stood flush against a wide wall.  “And where is our welcome party?”

 

“They were to meet us at these coordinates.  Protocol dictated we be escorted into the palace.”  Ambassador Reyes responded.

 

“Uhura?”

 

“Yes, Captain.  These are the exact coordinates sent to the Enterprise yesterday by First Minister Ghyden’s aide.”

 

Uhura looked around, wondering why people did not exit the palace or the building right across from it.  In the distance, she heard the sound of sirens and felt some of her unease dissipate.  That one sound meant there was some normalcy to the city.

 

They all whipped out tricorders and began scanning.  Uhura read a seismic spike on her screen, and then another explosion erupted from below, causing the ground to shift and shake.  Spock was the first to comment.  “Captain, this is deliberate.”

 

A furious rumble cracked the stone beneath their feet.  Wilfully destroying a society in such a manner had to be the work of an unbalanced mind.   Unbidden, her report of apprehension to Captain Kirk and Commander Spock after the banquet returned.  In the end, they had all concluded that there was not much any of them could do based on her hunch.  Instead, they planned to be extra vigilant in their dealings with the Hydians.  It gave her no pleasure at all that she had been correct in her instincts.

 

 “Enterprise, get us the hell out of here,” Kirk barked urgently into his communicator. 

 

 The familiar feeling of dematerialisation enveloped her being.  Khaldan began to fade, as her molecules were captured, then separated for transport. When she materialised in solid form, she was not on the Enterprise.  They were all still on Hydan.  Around them, the city shook and surged, while windows shattered.  The trees offered some protection from the explosive shower of glass that fell.

 

“Why are we still here?”  Sulu murmured as he took in his surroundings with annoyed bewilderment.

 

“What is going on, Captain?”  Reyes demanded, pulling himself upright and smoothing his dark brown tunic.

 

“I’m not sure, Ambassador, but I do intend to find out,” the Captain assured Reyes. 

 

“Kirk to Enterprise, what just happened?”

 

“Not sure, Keptain, Mr. Scott is on his vay to the transporter room.  We read an unknown energy surge emanating from the surface.  It interfered with your pattern streams.”

 

“Keep us posted Chekov, Kirk out.”

 

Uhura frowned at Chekov’s words.  As part of her duty, she had examined various aspects of Hydan society, including technology.  “Captain, my research into this planet showed no evidence of this type of technology.”

 

“Neither did reports from Science and Engineering.  Ambassador?”

 

“Perhaps it is a natural occurrence,” Reyes replied.

 

Spock countered Reyes.  “I can assure you, Ambassador; this was just as deliberated as the explosions under us.  Someone means to prevent the official signing.”  

 

“It doesn’t make sense for them to hide something like this from us.  It would not have prevented membership.” 

 

“I suggest we find a safer location to sort out our situation.”

 

“Logical as always, Mr. Spock,” Kirk remarked, casting his first officer a sideway glance.

 

The shaking eased to light tremors as they made their way alongside the wall, side stepping cracks and jutting stones.  Eventually, they found themselves in an abandoned corridor that ran adjacent to the palace.  Uhura and Sulu scanned for danger ahead, while Spock monitored the ground stability.  The Captain immediately returned to the Reyes’ side.  “In all your negotiations and studies of this planet, did you know they had this capability?”

 

She understood Kirk’s clipped tone.  He used it when attempting to control his anger.  In the months she had served onboard the Enterprise as his Communications Officer, she’d learnt to recognise that tone.  He used it when his ship or his crew were threatened.  She first heard it two months into space, while they docked at a space station to deliver supplies.  A Tellarite had made the mistake of harassing an ensign from Engineering.  In all, Uhura had to admit that Kirk had mellowed out into a competent leader.  He was still the occasional pain in the ass, but damn good at his job.

 

“My assistant did most of the initial investigation.  He also handled many of the preliminary discussions when we were setting up this meeting.  Reports indicated no such device.”

 

Pausing from his scanning, Spock asked, “Where is Mr. Kelley, Ambassador?”

 

“Marlon complained of ill health this morning, and asked to be excused.”

 

“I find the coincidence rather alarming.”

 

“I agree with you, Mr. Spock.”  Kirk answered.

 

“Must I remind you that Marlon Kelley is a valuable member of the diplomatic corps,” Reyes bit out.   Observing the flush suffusing his face, Uhura did not think it was normal for such a distinguished ambassador get this riled in such a short time. 

 

“Spock to Enterprise.”

 

“Enterprise here,” answered Ensign Chekov.

 

“Please have Marlon Kelley confined and questioned about his knowledge of events on Hydan.”

 

“Acknowledged, Commander.” 

 

Spock closed his communicator and they continued walking.  A few paces forward Uhura’s tricorder chirped.  She looked at Sulu and saw that his tricorder had the same reading.  His right hand was already travelling to his holstered phaser.  “Trouble about to turn the corner, three of them,” she warned.

 

No sooner had the words left her lips three Hydians dressed in dark tunics and brandishing weapons came into view.  They halted, smirked at each other, and aimed their energy rifles and...

 

...then widened their eyes in surprise, as phaser fire hit them in their stomachs, stunning them into unconsciousness.

 

Before the bodies touched the ground, a voice from above caught the Enterprise party’s attention.  “Remain right where you are.  Drop all weapons and kick them away.”

 

Collectively they looked upwards.   Standing on an open second floor landing were five Hydians dressed in similar garb.  These five looked more serious than the previous three.  Most important, two had their weapons trained on Reyes. 

 

“Don’t try anything heroic.  We can dispatch of the good Ambassador before you try to kill us.”

 

Slowly, they removed their phasers and kicked them away; although, there was a discernable pattern to where each phaser landed.  Uhura doubted the men above them would detect it.  She hardly had time for much more analysis because the ground shook again.  A fierce lurch followed, causing them to stagger and the landing the men stood upon to sway.

 

As one, the Starfleet officers dived for their phasers, while Reyes flattened his body against the building.  Under the strain of five men, the shaking landing began to come unhinged, but the Hydians were determined.  A fire-fight ensued, sending deadly energy back and forth.  Then there was only one Hydian standing, and the landing began to buckle.  Sulu dragged Reyes forward and together they all took off, running and stumbling on the shaking ground.  They turned another corner and headed to a wide entryway.  Unfortunately, for them seven figures stepped into their path and opened fire.  Uhura felt burning heat sear into her body, and as she slipped into darkness, she wondered which god one of them had angered before setting out for this mission.

  

*****

When Uhura woke, the sun was still high, judging by the light streaming in from the narrow window elevated beyond their reach.  She lay on a hard stone floor, inside of a small hot room.  It had one metal door with a circular barred opening and a locked slot.  Her eyes scanned the room, and she observed that Lieutenant Sulu and Commander Spock were awake.  Captain Kirk and Ambassador Reyes were still out cold.  She pulled herself partially up.  Spock’s warm hand helped her get into a somewhat comfortable position.

 

“Welcome to the world of the living.”  Sulu greeted with false cheer.  He sat across from her with his arms resting on raised knees.  Kirk to his left and further into the corner was Reyes.

 

“I feel half alive,” she replied, disliking the dryness in her mouth and dull ache in her chest.

 

“Are you in need of assistance, Lieutenant?”  Spock asked.   Seated a mere inches from her; he now tinkered with a tricorder.  He also sported a light bruise on his left cheek and a cut lower lip.

 

“I’m alright,” she nodded, “Just a little groggy.  What happened to your lip?”

 

“I woke before they had us secured.  It was an unpleasant surprise for them.”

 

“Ah, I see.”  Turning to Sulu, she asked, “What’s going on out there?”

 

 “Mr. Spock and I surmised that we are caught in middle of a rebellion.”

 

“Dumb luck, huh?”

 

“Indeed,” Spock replied.

*****

 The sound of groaning reached Uhura long minutes later, as the Ambassador woke and sat up.  He brushed back the hair that fell across his eyes, leaned against the wall, and looked at each of them.  “Where are we?”

 

“Locked in a holding cell, Ambassador,” Spock responded, hardly ever glancing up.

 

“Have you communicated with your ship?”

 

“The Hydians are effectively jamming our signal.  Another capability they should not have.”

 

“I am just as taken aback as you are, Mr. Spock.”  Reyes massaged his temples, and then asked a very non-diplomatic question, “I suppose this means we’re screwed?”

 

“Yep,” Sulu replied.

 

“Correct, Ambassador,” Uhura added.

 

“Crudely put, but yes,” Spock offered.

 

Eventually the captain stirred, his eyes snapping open and surveying the room.  He questioned them about their observations thus far and communications with the Enterprise.  He rose to his feet and walked to the door.  As he ran his fingers along its edges, Spock announced that the tricorder was now operational.  Much excitement followed, and they began to scan the room.  The readings revealed voice-monitoring devices hidden on the high beams that crisscrossed above them.  They lapsed into strained silence.

 

Sometime after the discovery, Uhura heard footsteps approaching outside in the hallway.  Judging from the tilt of his head, Spock did too.  Moments later, the others seemed to hear the rhythmic thud.  In unison, they stood and waited.  Bodies tensed in anticipation for possible combat.  The footsteps slowed, and then stopped in front of their cell. The sound of a code being keyed into a wall panel filled the small room.  The locks released and a grim-faced Minister Akhet, flanked by three burly guards, stepped into the cell.  They were well armed, and they were serious.  They each had their weapons raised, cocked, and pointed in the general direction of Uhura and group.

 

Ambassador Reyes was the first to break the silent stare down.  “What is the meaning of this, Minister?  Do you seriously think you can get away with harming us?”

 

“We don’t intend serious harm, my friends, just you at our whim for the time being.”

 

“And here I thought Hydan was ready to join the Federation.”

 

“An agreement was never made by the entire population,” Akhet retorted. 

 

Staring at him, Uhura had that niggling sense of something not quite right.  It was that same feeling she had experienced at the banquet and it added to her earlier realisation.  Cocking her head, she recalled a poem from her research, and then Akhet’s words about history.  Finally, it clicked and she closed her eyes.  Either Ambassador Reyes was incompetent, or he left much to Marlon Kelley, who was suddenly doubly suspicious.

 

“Explain why your disagreement with your government involved taking us hostage.”  Kirk demanded.

 

Instead of answering the captain, Akhet looked at Uhura.  “Do you remember our discussions about warfare throughout Earth’s history, Lieutenant Uhura?”

 

She uncurled the fists she had unknowingly formed and responded, “I remember, Minister.  But must I remind you of how we came close to destroying ourselves.”

 

“Look at my eyes, Lieutenant, then look at the eyes of these three men.”

 

Uhura did not need to look.  She already knew the answer and the meaning.  “The colour is different, as was the eye colour of our entertainer and servers last night.  You are of the Worker Caste?”  Her words were soft, yet she could see their impact on her fellow officers and Reyes.  A society that kept some of its people just barely above slavery would be ineligible for Federation membership. 

 

Akhet smiled thinly and nodded.  “Yes, the mark of servitude.  It makes us tools for the Ruler Caste.  It is we who labour to produce that which makes Hydan valuable.” 

 

“I’m baffled by your prestigious position in government.  Is First Minister Ghyden also connected to the Worker Caste?”

 

The small smile on Akhet’s face vanished.  She could almost hear his teeth grinding.  The men in his company glanced at each other.  She had obviously touched upon a raw subject.  “My mother was a serving wench to my father, the previous First Minister.  I am their bastard offspring.”

 

“We heard no mentioned of a suppressed minority.”  Reyes said in what Uhura guessed to be his most polite diplomatic voice. 

 

“Of course you haven’t, Ambassador.  Ghyden went to a great deal of effort to keep you from learning the truth.  You see, my brother and the others could not rise above their own arrogance.”

 

“So you used this distraction to your advantage?”

 

“How could I pass up such an opportunity?”

 

Spock gave the tricorder in his hand a fleeting look, then spoke levelly to Akhet.  “Minister, you failed to properly calculate the effect of these cascading subterranean explosions.  The hollowness of this planet’s crust cannot sustain much more trauma.  Your cities could collapse, killing millions.  Are you prepared for this eventuality?”  Leave it to Spock to state the obvious, especially when you wanted to ignore it. 

 

As calm as she had ever seen him, the Minister answered, “Sacrifices must be made to achieve our goals.  Those tunnels are the source of our mineral wealth.  Cripple it and the Federation has less incentive to assist my brother’s government.”

 

His patience at an end, Kirk stepped forward, bright eyes flashing, and Uhura noticed a twitched on the hand of the man to Akhet’s left.  She slid her gaze quickly to Spock and Sulu and saw that they too had noticed it.  “You still have not answered my question, Akhet.”

 

 “Simple, Captain; you will help me disband of my brother and bring about a new order.”

 

They all stared at him as if he had gone mad.  Looking into his now feverish eyes, Uhura decided that, conceivably, he had.  He was a fanatic, willing to go to any lengths to get what he wanted.  Fanatics like him were almost impossible to reason with, even to the detriment of the cause.    

 

Captain Kirk was the only one to respond.  He laughed.  The low cocky laugh he had when confronted with a challenge he considered ludicrous.  It was at this point that their situation truly swung to the ridiculous.  Another artificial quake hit and the building trembled.  Kirk launched himself at Akhet, using his weight to knock the man to the floor.  His hands grasped the minister’s weapon forcing it away from him.  His right elbow slammed into Akhet’s neck.  Enraged, the minister doubled his efforts, flipping the captain off his body.  A battle of fists and wills commenced. 

 

Before Kirk hit the floor, Spock reached for the man closest to Akhet’s left.  Mr. Twitchy, as Uhura had mentally dubbed him, discharged his weapon.  With the clarity of adrenaline, she saw that the shot headed for Reyes.  She threw her body on him and took them both to the floor.  The shot sailed over their heads.   The Hydian furthest from Akhet immediately decided that he too should take a shot at the Ambassador.  Uhura saw it coming and rolled with Reyes to make them less of a target.  At the same time, she peripherally saw the guard closest to Mr. Twitchy fire his rifle at Spock, while Sulu attacked her shooter at his unprotected side.    

 

When she righted herself, Uhura saw Mr. Twitchy crumbled on the floor.  She heard the wet pop of bone and tissue as Sulu delivered a brutal kick to his opponent left kneecap.  The Hydian moaned and fell onto that same shattered knee.  He turned grey, pitching forward onto the floor.  His weapon flew from now slackened fingers.  She pushed Reyes into a corner, then quickly scooted over grabbed it, and returned to the bewildered ambassador.   The Hydian seemed to rally himself by lifting his upper body.  Uhura was about to shoot him, but Sulu followed with another vicious kick, and then another.  

 

Alert, her gaze found Spock. He had unarmed the second guard and they were engaged in a blur of movements. She noticed a tiny flicker of annoyance cross his face as he blocked a ferocious blow.  His right hand, moving with precise speed struck the appropriate nerves necessary to render his foe unconscious.  Kirk in the meantime had taken complete control of the minister’s weapon.  He drove the handle into Akhet’s vulnerable nose, and then slammed it into the side of his head.  In less than two minutes, the fighting was over.  They were standing and the four Hydians were down.  Victory was fleeting, though, as the ground rocked under them.  The force of it caused a ceiling beam to split and tumble downward.

 

Attempting to outrun the collapse, they rushed to the door.  Uhura, still protecting the ambassador, drew him with her.  They were the first to reach the dimly lit hallway.  She pushed him ahead, and like Lot’s wife in the Bible, who looked back at her burning city, Uhura looked back.  But, she did not turn to salt; instead she froze for a split second as horror washed over her.  She was just in time to see a jagged piece of the beam plummet toward Kirk.  It never touched the captain because Spock pushed him out of the way.  His blue science tunic turned a sickly green-blue and a soft grunt left his lips, under the strain of the impalement.  Kirk and Sulu were immediately at his side, offering support.  She pushed down the overwhelming need to reach for him and ran forward. 

 

They hurried down the long hallway, which opened into a large room that reminded her of a police booking area.  On the floor, among the shattered glass, paper and debris crunched with each step.  At the exit, Kirk’s communicator chirped.  They all stopped, waiting anxiously to hear from the Enterprise.  Uhura allowed herself a look at Spock.  His blood was spreading rapidly down the front of his uniform.  A fine tremor shook his body.  She knew he stood only by a combination of his determination and Sulu’s arm.  The ugly fingers of horror resurfaced and she feared for him.  This was not the first time either of them was in harm’s way.  However, it was the first time she had witnessed the moment of his injury.  She moved to stand beside him, her fingers caressing his hand in soothing circles.  Their eyes locked briefly, he inhaled deeply and seemed to draw strength from her.

 

“Kirk here,” the Captain answered.

 

“Aye Captain, we’ve just broken through the interference.  Prepare for beam up.”  Engineer Scott stated with barely a trace of his Scottish brogue.

 

“Have medical waiting for our arrival.  Spock is badly injured. ”

 

The next few minutes for Uhura, involved beaming up to the Enterprise, and taking comfort in Dr. McCoy’s angry grumblings.  The doctor took one look at her worried face and touched her arm.  “He’ll be good as new,” he reassured her.  She followed the medical team to sickbay, waiting until they hastily began surgery on Spock.  With a final look, she backed out of sickbay and headed for the bridge.  There was work to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, more coming soon.


	5. Heart and Soul

**NOW**

Thirty-three minutes, twelve point eight seconds has passed since the abrupt severing of communication with Enterprise.  Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura have spent much of that time recalibrating the shuttle’s shields.  Twenty-five percent weaker once active, they will encompass less than the recommended radius.  These changes will ensure maximum usage of remaining power. 

 

Seated in the aft section of the shuttle, steps away from the engine, Spock feels Nyota’s solid weight against his side.  Across from them, Ensign Hartmann is still feverish and ashen.  With a touch of morbidity, he muses that, were he prone to selfishness, he might resent her.  Nevertheless, he concedes that leaving the crash site for a safer location previously held a 2.9703 percent chance of success.

 

Minor seismic disturbances continue to rattle the ground.  Recent readings confirm the inevitable clash of high viscosity magma and immense air pressure is minutes from occurring.  They are simply awaiting the outcome: a massive ejection.

 

Nyota shifts slightly and rests her head on her his shoulder.  Her strong slender fingers entwine with his, while her thumb grazes his hand.  Her caress is tender and comforting.  “I have a confession, Spock.”

 

He looks down into her now upturned face and raises an eyebrow.  “Is your confession troubling or pleasing?”

 

She offers that brilliant smile reserved only for him, and his breath catches.  “Definitely pleasing,” she says.  Her liquid brown eyes take on a faraway look and her smile gentles.  “I noticed you the week you arrived on campus.  I remember the day was chilly and damp.  It was a happy day because I had just completed my last exam of the year.  I had survived year one of the Academy.

 

“You were so striking and self-contained, as if you could face any danger and triumph.  I was thoroughly interested.  I followed you around for a few minutes the next day.  I watched you converse with a female colleague, and I felt jealousy.” 

 

Taken aback by her last sentence, Spock touches her chin.  “I am curious to know what caused your jealousy.” 

 

The manicured nail of her thumb absently presses into his hand, dragging down and under to his palm.  The light scraping is one-step away from erotic.  “My envy wasn’t sexual.  I was jealous of the way your focus zeroed in on her.  She had your complete undivided attention.  At that moment, I wanted the same absolute consideration directed at me.  I wanted to know what it would feel like to experience it.”

 

“And later?” he prompts.

 

“Later, I just wanted all of you.”

 

“Have I lived up to your expectations?”

 

“More than you can imagine,” she whispers, placing her head back on his shoulder.

 

He listens to her strong heartbeat, feels her cool soft skin, and he is grateful for her affection, loyalty, respect and most important, her acceptance.  In all his life, she is the second person to accept and appreciate all of him.  He has been despised for his genius, his heritage, and his choices.  Some have thought him lacking because they could not understand him, or they failed to comprehend the whole of him.  Nyota and his mother are the only individuals to appreciate and accept him, all flaws included.

 

“Since we are making confession, I have one to share.”

 

“Am I going to like it or not?” 

 

His lips quirk at her variation of his earlier question, he proceeds with his admission.  “I told my mother about you after we began our relationship.”

 

“Oh,” she whispers softly.  “I would have liked to meet her.”

 

“Mother was intrigued by you.  She seemed to have great difficulty suppressing her blatant interest that day.”

 

Nyota pauses in her caress and looks up at him with wide eyes.  “Good intrigue?”

 

“We spoke the morning after my first intimate encounter with you.  I had yet to meditate, and she immediately discerned diminished control.  You were the first female since childhood to affect me, the first I ever discussed with her.  For those very reasons, she wanted to meet you.”

 

“What about T’Pring, even Leila Kalomi?”

 

“The only name besides yours that we ever discussed was T’Pring’s, when I informed her of my decision to seek a dissolving of the betrothal bond.  I needed her fortitude before approaching T’Pring.”

 

“You were afraid T’Pring would deny you?”  A feather of surprise colours Nyota’s question. 

 

“‘Afraid’ is too strong an emotion,” he replies, then adds, “However, I was apprehensive.”

 

“You did not expect her ready agreement?”

 

“Not at the time.  In retrospect, it is not surprising she consented.  We were never close, having met each other only twice after our betrothal ceremony.  She had her own life and wished to continue with it.”

 

“Do you think she would’ve eventually made the request of you, had we never gotten together?”

 

“I am uncertain as to what she might have done.  Perhaps she would have waited until our appointed time.”  Spock shudders at the thought of fighting to the death over a woman he did not want outside of the blood fever.

 

His tricorder, set to monitor abrupt changes in their surroundings, beeps and flashes in warning.  Instantly, Spock is on his feet.  Adjusting the makeshift control, he turns on the shield generator.  He returns to his seat, and then they hear it, a deep thunderous rumble that shakes everything.  Earth cracks, collapses, and the shuttle tilts backward.  Moments later, a blast detonates, as the volcano finally erupts.  

 

The tremendous discharge force causes J7900’s rotation to hiccup for just one point six seconds.  Spock is not sure how he recognises the phenomenon.  Possibly, it is his innate ability to measure time.  Whatever the reason, time skipped and he sensed it.  

 

Nyota grasps his hand in hers and he squeezes back.  “I guess this is it.”  Her voice is a mixture of fear and strength.

 

He responds by taking her face into hands, pressing an urgent kiss onto her parted lips.  They have twenty-seven minutes before the shield generator starts to lose power, and the area of protection begins to shrink.  After that, it will weaken even more, and then fail completely.

 

Nyota breaks the kiss and looks up at him.  Steadily, his right hand trails up to her meld points.  Deep down inside the dark primal place of his psyche, blossoms a sudden hunger to join mentally with her.  It consumes him and he feels that melding is imperative.

 

 “Nyota,” he murmurs in way of asking permission.

 

“Go ahead.”      

 

He creates a connection and surges forward.  He is relieved and elated when she meets him with equal desperation in a world of swirling emotion and ordered logic.  They embrace and within the meld, he tells her the words he has known for a long time.  “K’hat’n’dlawa.  _I am honoured to have received your love.”_ Her happiness enfolds him, and he is gratified to have her affections.  

 

 _“Oh yes, Spock, you too are the other half of my heart and soul.  You will always have my love.”_   

 

Dimly, they hear the rain of hot ash against the shuttle’s shield.  Her fear spikes, as she silently wonders if this is their end.  He wants to tell her _kaiidth_ , what is, is, but her Human sensibilities would not like that word.  If this were the end, then he would prefer to share with her the memory of when she called him her _K’hat’n’dlawa_.  He pushes further into the meld.  Together they willingly sink deeper into each other, pushing into the bare core of who they truly are and hope to become.  They are both aware that after physical separation, they will remain irrevocably linked.

 

**THEN**

Shore leave, Spock learnt, during his first tenure aboard a starship, offered respite for a weary crew.  At the time, he had been a senior year cadet, serving as a junior science officer under Christopher Pike.  The Human captain had assumed the position of mentor and considered it his duty to ensure Spock’s education was thorough.  Participating in the rituals of shore leave was part of that education.  Spock always made sure to visit the planet or station, never staying long.  He rarely saw the need to spend his entire leave sampling the locality.  

 

This upcoming shore leave felt different.  A current of heightened anticipation was running through the crew, which Spock attributed to the disaster of Hydan.  Two months had passed and he was still required to have mandatory weekly medical checkups.  For his act of treason, Minister Akhet had been executed.  However, his attempted coup opened the eyes of many Hydians and the Federation.  With assistance from a very resolute Ambassador Reyes, negotiations toward reforms had begun.  No one expected rapid results given the years of entrenched customs, but there was a surprising willingness Reyes intended to nurture.  Marlon Kelley, for his collaboration with Akhet, awaited trial.

 

As they walked the corridors of Enterprise, Nyota excitedly ticked off the many activities she had arranged for their shore leave.  It was an ambitious schedule.  She paused in her talking as they entered the mess hall and headed for the synthesizer.  Lunch ordered, they found an empty table toward the back of the room.  Once their meal commenced, Nyota picked up her PADD and proceeded to adjust the afternoon activity for day five.  Spock remained silent.

 

“I think we can cancel bird watching.  Instead, we should rent a boat in the morning and go sailing.  The waters are magnificent, and they have these friendly sea mammals that only surface at dawn.  The Tourism Office said we could pet them.  What do you think?”

 

He knew this question was coming and understood his words would be unwelcomed.  “Nyota, I appreciate all your prudent planning, but I intend to run my new experiments and get caught up with my journal readings.”

 

“You what?”  Her eyes widened, then narrowed.  “I have planned how we will spend our week on that paradise below us.  I took into account your many preferences, and you want to spend the time working?”

 

“Exactly; you have outlined a detail itinerary of activities, yet never asked my opinion on the matter.”     

 

“Of course I did,” she replied, clenching her hands beside the now forgotten lunch.  “I asked you if you would like to tour the mineral caves and surrounding valley.  You said, ‘The experience would be satisfying.’”

 

“An event planned for day three of our leave.  Beyond that we never discussed anything else until you started listing your plans today.”

 

Spock watched as a vein at Nyota’s temples began to throb.  Sometimes, he found himself fascinated by the rise of her anger and the physiological changes that accompanied it.  This was not one of those times.   

 

“You would rather spend time in a lab than in my company?”

 

His own irritation rising, he rested his utensils atop his plate, and then pushed them aside.  “You are not being rational.  How could you expect my agreement to something I had no part in planning?” 

 

“Are you calling me illogical?”  Her hissed words caused a number of heads to turn their way.

 

“Please,” he asked, lowering his voice, “can we have this discussion later in private?”  

 

She shot him a withering stare and agreed with his suggestion.  Then she looked pointedly at the faces locked to their table.  Were he in an agreeable mood, he might have found the quick comical change of interest entertaining.

 

Their return to the bridge was as professional as was expected of two senior officers.  Spock assumed their disagreement would resolve itself within hours.  His assumption based on analysis of previous arguments was wrong.  Indeed their late night conversation degenerated into his cold silence and her carefully heated words.

 

The following afternoon, Spock monitored Nyota’s progress as she went to the transporter room and requested planet-side beam down.  He told himself that he was simply making sure; she arrived safely at her destination.  A few hours later, Captain Kirk visited him.  Under the pretence of being interested in Spock’s research, he looked around the lab, asking a number of questions.  Then he revealed his true reason for stopping by; he wanted Spock to join him at a great place for ‘loosening up’.  He thought it would be a perfect place for them because they were both ‘wound tight’.  Spock politely declined. 

 

Alone in the quiet lab, Spock immersed himself in work.  He spent hours setting his experiments to test his hypothesis.  Delving into the purity of science, he worked into the early hours of morning.  Satisfied with how much he had accomplished, he returned to his quarters and spent time catching up on his journal readings.  

 

It was during breakfast on the third day that he first missed Nyota.  They shared their first meal on most days.  If they spent the night together, they usually walked to the mess hall, while carrying on a light banter.  When they did not share quarters, he would arrive first and have her breakfast waiting for her.  He had been about to order her favourite piece of fruit when he remembered that she was planet-side.

 

On the evening of the fourth day, he decided to end his work early and visit the gym facilities.  Walking the deserted corridors, he spotted Dr. McCoy, dressed in civilian clothing.  The man looked surlier than normal, and Spock contemplated turning around before he was noticed.  Prior to his feet obeying his mental command, McCoy glanced up and glared.  “Good evening doctor.  I thought you would be enjoying your leave.”

 

McCoy sighed and stepped closer to him.  “I was, Spock.  The natives are a wild bunch, especially the women.  They really know how to show tourists a good time.”

 

Puzzled, he asked, “Then why are you here?”

 

“Jim just had to flirt with the wrong girl, causing an argument, which resulted in a punch being thrown.  Of course, he knew to avoid the fist.  The kid didn’t.  His nose got knocked out of joint.”

 

Spock processed the information, not altogether surprised.  “I presume Ensign Chekov will sustain no lasting damage.”

 

 “He’s going to be fine.”  McCoy folded his arms and frowned. “How come you’re here and Uhura is down there?”

 

“We disagreed on how to spend our time.”

 

“Better be careful, as I said, those folks down there are wild.” 

 

Without further comment, the doctor walked away.  It took five seconds for Spock to become aware of standing motionless and that McCoy had already disappeared into another corridor.  The idea of Nyota entertaining the affections of another male was unsettling.  Slowly, he continued walking.  Instead of going to the gym, he changed destinations and headed for the observation deck. 

 

He stood before the large window and stared at the rotating blue sphere.  She was down there in an environment conducive to inebriation and ‘free-love’.  It was not accidental that most of the natives walked around barely clothed.  Most important, she was beautiful and possessed a skin tone the natives would consider exotic.

 

Logically, he knew she would never behave in such a way as to jeopardize their relationship.  Still, there were bound to be enterprising individuals who would attempt to persuade her to act otherwise.  Suddenly, Spock considered that perhaps he should have worked out a compromise with Nyota.

 

Ten minutes later, Spock found himself beaming down to the planet’s surface.  Remembering she intended to attend a beach festival this night, he headed in direction of the beach.  As paved road gave way to soft peach sand, he felt the need to quicken his steps.  

 

Chaotic drum rhythms flowed his way on air scented with ocean water and fresh cut blossoms.  With careful steps, he walked among the scantily clad pale gold-tinged bodies.  Some of them wore tiny outfits embellished with flower petals and seashells.  Others were topless.  He cast a fleeting look at his uniform.  He was grossly overdressed.

 

Eventually, he located the dance area on the edges of the water, and he knew she would be here.  He watched the sweaty drummers increase the intensity of their music, and then he scanned the dancers.  The only illumination came from twin moons and lighted torches scattered along the shore.  In the background, beyond the drums, the soft sounds of crashing waves enticed revellers to go swimming.       

 

Then he saw her and ceased to think of his surroundings.  Clad in a silver bikini and a black mesh sarong, she danced between two males whose colouring marked them as locals.  Her sun-kissed skin glowed with vitality in the low lighting.  She moved in a series of joyous undulations that were sensual and beautiful to behold.  Nyota reminded him of the Earth mythology, which spoke of sirens that lured men to their deaths.  

 

The male behind her placed his hands on her hips, pulling her flush against his body.  Spock felt his hands fist with uncertainty.  McCoy’s words whispered to him in an almost mocking tone.  He meant to step forward; however, she readjusted the distance between herself and her dance partners.  

 

“Spock?”

 

Briefly taking his eyes off Nyota, he glanced at Kirk.  He wore khaki slacks and dark t-shirt, sipping a fruit based concoction.  “Hello, Jim,” he said, returning his gaze to the woman of his interest.  She had reversed her position, so that she now faced the man who had been behind her.

 

“How come you’re here?  The last time we spoke, you were adamant about running your experiments.”

 

“I would think it were obvious.”

 

“Ah yes.  She’s a remarkable woman.”

 

Quietly, they watched Nyota dance until the drummers increased their speed and Spock’s whole reality shrunk back down to her.  The drums grew louder, the rhythm faster than a heartbeat.  It pounded through him as he saw her partners twirl her around.  Despite all the noise, he heard her happy laughter.  

 

The music reached its crescendo, coming to an abrupt stop.  One of the men leaned forward to speak something into her ear.  She looked up, noticing him for the first time.  She froze then nodded to the man and his friend.  

 

“I’ll go find my date,” Kirk commented wryly.

 

He met her halfway on the rapidly clearing dance area.  “You came,” she said, stepping that much closer to him.  “I resigned myself to spending the entire time alone.”

 

“Dr. McCoy and I had an informative conversation earlier tonight.”

  

She stepped back and Spock could see the flash of disappointment in her eyes.  He reached out with his right hand and lightly touched his index and middle fingers to hers.  “Can we go somewhere private?”

 

She frowned.  “My cabana is fifteen minutes west of here.”

 

Taut silence surrounded them as they walked along the sandy beach.  Spock found the crackling tension intolerable.  He decided to ask her about her activities thus far.

 

“I’ve spent most of my time on the beach.  I visited the mineral caves with a tour group, and yesterday, Jim and Len invited me to join them hiking.”

 

He looked at her in curiosity.  Nyota was not much of a hiker.  She did it mostly to please him.  “Did you accept their invitation?”

 

“Yes.  It wasn’t too bad.  They made the experience enjoyable.”

 

“I am gratified that you have found your time enjoyable.”

 

They reached her small blue and white cabana, which was perched atop an incline.  They lapsed back into silence, while walking the footpath that ended at short narrow stairs, attached to a wide porch.  Once at the top of the stairs, they sat and watched the moons, reflect on the water.

 

“I wanted you here with me, Spock.”  A trace of anger coloured her voice as she added, “Especially after I witnessed you being injured on Hydan.”

 

“Nyota, you must understand, I had my own plans, which you refused to consider during our discussions.”

 

“Arguments, Spock, we argued.  Discussions are usually more civil.”

 

“Arguments then.  The fact remains we had separate ideas of how this shore leave would unfold.”

 

She sighed and brought her legs closer to stomach then rested her chin on her knees.  Her hair fell across her shoulders in a cloud of curls.  It was rare to see it this way.  He wanted to sink his fingers through the softness. “Why did you come here, tonight?”

 

He analysed her question and his real reasons for coming planet-side.  His conclusion was so simple after he removed all convenient rationalization.  “I found myself yearning for your company during my many mundane tasks.  At some point, I have come to expect your presence next to mine.”   

 

She turned her head to face him.  He looked around noting that the closest cabana was far enough from their location to offer privacy.  He lifted his arm and gave into temptation, threading his fingers into her dark hair.  “I also experienced a moment of jealousy after my conversation with Leonard.”

 

She chuckled softly.  The sound carried away on a passing wind.  “I don’t think I ever expected jealousy from you.”

 

“It is one of our most destructive emotions; we are taught to always keep it suppressed.  In reality most Vulcans are territorial about their significant other.”

 

“I am glad that you missed me, Spock, because I missed having you here with me.  Sorry I wasn’t more open to what you wanted to do.  I have been told I am a bit of a control freak.”

 

“I have been called that and worse.”  He dropped his arm to her shoulders and she moved closer to him.  “Next time we are on shore leave, a serious exercise in compromise will be called for, do you agree?”

 

“I agree beloved.”  She smiled and leaned into him.  With their lips a mere inch apart, she whispered, “ _K’hat’n’dlawa_. I love you.”

 

Illogical it might be; he felt his heart swell with delight.  They had bridged a final distance.  He had called her _Ashaya_ before, and she told him that she loved him.  This was the first time she had referred to him in that most intimate of Vulcan phrases.  _K’hat’n’dlawa-_ She considered him the other half of her heart and soul.  Although he did not mirror her words, her feelings he most definitely reciprocated, for he too considered her his other half.  She was his beloved, _k’diwa_.

 

Instead, he pulled her closer and poured his every feeling into a searing kiss.  He intended for her to understand, they belonged together.  Once they separated, her eyes were glazed and a lovely smile tugged her lips.  “I think we should head indoors.”  He was not going to argue with her most pleasing of suggestions.  When she stood and entered the cabana, he was right behind her.  

 

In her bedroom, tall narrow windows opened to the elements of night.  Silver light of twin moons lit their way as they kissed and undressed each other.  The call of nocturnal birds and the roll of ocean waves whispered to him, as he worshiped her body with hands, lips and tongue.  He sought out her erogenous zones, lavishing attention at each until he heard her hoarse cries of pleasure.

 

Her fingers dug into his scalp and her body trembled.  He wanted more.  He trailed his lips to the drenched entrance of her body.  The intoxicating taste of her desire drove him on.  He needed to see her shatter on his hands and mouth.  He smiled slightly when her body lifted from the bed, and she cried his name in a prayer.

 

His smirk disappeared when she flipped him onto his back and proceeded with her own brand of torment.  She knew how to pleasure him, where a kiss was preferred over the graze of a nail, or when to swirl her tongue.  Best of all she knew how much pressure to apply during the act of fellatio.

 

He found it difficult to breathe, as his heart rate increased from her ministrations.  Nyota took pity on both of them and straddled his body, taking him deep within her.  His last coherent thought as she rocked against him, while playing with her breast was that, he was correct in his earlier assessment.  Under the ethereal light of moons as her body moved for him, with him, she did indeed look like siren.   


	6. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters are not mine.

**AFTER**

Alive.  She was alive.  

Trapped.  She felt trapped in heavy claustrophobic darkness.  The oppressiveness closed in around her, while something covered her face.  A rush of anxiety flooded her body, heightening her every painful sensation.  She reached blindly and clawed the obstruction attached to her face.  Her eyes flickered open, and the brightness around her seared them.  She blinked back tears, struggling to focus on someone or something but saw only vague shapes.

Urgent voices, she could not comprehend reached her sensitive ears.  She attempted to turn her head toward the sounds and could not.  The hands that had tried weakly to free her face flopped limply to her sides.  Icy cold suffused her entire body, settling in her mind.  Something was dreadfully wrong.  Her heart and mind screamed at the wrongness, trying desperately to fix it.  Fix a wrongness tied to Spock.  The coldness numbing her inside and out, belonged to him, and it was dragging her under.  He needed her now.  She had to get to him before the last spark of warmth left his heart and soul.  Reaching deep within, she gathered all her remaining strength and forced her hands back to her face.

A brief flash of triumph blazed through her when she was free.  Groping blindly, she pulled herself upright.  She was about to swing her legs over the bed she laid upon but large hands pushed her back down.  She fought frantically to get back up; however, the hands were too strong.  She felt a prick on her left arm and immediately darkness swallowed her whole.

 

***

“Spock,” Uhura gasped, hoarsely as she woke for a second time.  She blinked a few times, thankful for the lowered lights and gentle humming of sickbay.  She inhaled deeply and winced at the pain in her throat and lungs. 

A soft sound of an opening door followed by light footsteps caught her attention.  This time, she was able to move her head without a great deal of effort.  A familiar figure in uniform blue greeted her.  “Sleeping Beauty wakes,” McCoy remarked with a warm smile.

“Hi.  How long have I been out?”  Her body felt stronger than before, although there was still residual soreness.

His smile vanished.  “Three days.” 

Three days of her life was gone.  For Uhura, so used to filling each day with as much meaning as possible this bit of news was unsettling.  Pushing away the feeling, she said, “My throat hurts, Doctor.”

“I’m not surprised.”  McCoy reached above her and proceeded to adjust the monitors connected her bed.  “You inhaled a large amount of sulphur and hot ash.”

“What happened?” 

Captain Kirk who must have entered after McCoy was the one to answer.  “We got to your location before the major eruption but the storm prevented us from getting to you.  It took longer than expected for us to punch through a weak spot.”

“Spock and Mariah?”  Memories of her previous waking rushed to the forefront.  She remembered feeling cold and numb, knowing that Spock was in danger.  With desperate eyes, she looked at each man and then around the room.

McCoy rested a hand on her shoulder.  “Calm down or you’ll send yourself into a panic attack.”

She willed herself to relax.  Concentrating inward, she realised that Spock shone softly within her mind.  The empty cold was gone, replaced with warmth.  “I couldn’t feel him before…before when I woke.  What happened?”

A look passed between doctor and captain, and for the first time she noticed how haggard they both looked.  It felt good to have comrades who cared that much for her welfare.

“He kept you two alive until we showed up.  Damn near depleted himself,” McCoy replied. 

Uhura frowned, trying to remember all the details of what happened after the shields began to fail.  The effort triggered a headache.  She sighed and sat up with their assistance.  “I don’t understand,” she said, when she felt somewhat comfortable.

“He induced some sort of healing trance and locked you both into it.  As internal damage occurred to your body, he would repair it just enough to keep you alive.  When we brought you aboard the Enterprise, it was almost impossible to separate the two of you.”

She collapsed back onto the bed.  Now she understood why everything had felt terribly wrong.  “He flat-lined, didn’t he?”

Their uneasy silence was all the answer Uhura needed.  She said, “We’d prepared ourselves for the possibility of not surviving.”

“We got to you,” Kirk replied, “All three of you survived, and you know what?”

“Yes?”

A small graced his lips, brightening his already bright eyes.  “The good doctor said you did an impressive job keeping Hartman alive.”

She smiled back.  “You can thank Gaila for dragging me to those advance emergency classes.”

McCoy once more adjusted the monitor above her head, then left her and went to a workstation.  He returned to her bed and she noticed he carried a hypo.  He promptly proceeded to inject her with its contents.  Instantly it took hold, sending her into a drowsy state.  She glared at him in annoyance.  She had many more questions in need of answers.  She was not in the mood to go back to sleep.

“Not fair, Len.”

“Whoever said I played fair?” he retorted. 

Softening her glare, she said, “I want to see him, please.” 

McCoy walked around her bed and pulled back a privacy screen.  On the bed, right next to hers was her _k’diwa._   He lay there so utterly still, exhibiting the barest hint of life.  Touching their link, she drifted off to sleep with him in her sights.

 

***

Burning ice encased him.  At one time, it soothed, offering up comfort as he healed.  Now, it burned.  He needed to break free.  He struggled and felt it crack.  Not enough, he needed more.  He needed pain to escape.  And gloriously that pain arrived.  It filtered through the ice and stung him everywhere.  He embraced the sensation, using it to his advantage.  More pain and he broke the ice.  Another smack of pain and he was free to move towards the warm light of full consciousness. 

Someone was administering each blow, aiding him in his waking.  He sensed the next incoming strike, reached out, grabbing the descending hand.  Holding it, he opened his eyes and met Dr. McCoy’s concerned face.  “That was sufficient,” he rasped. 

“And here I thought I would have more fun,” McCoy replied, running his tricorder over him.  “You really gave us a good scare, Spock.” 

“In the future, I will endeavour to be careful, Doctor.” 

McCoy stopped his scanning and stared.  He pursed his lips, pointing the tricorder at Spock’s head.  He read the readings and then looked at Spock’s face.  “I had to double-check that you did not suffer an undiagnosed head injury.”                                                                                    

As frustrating as he sometimes found the doctor, it was somewhat entertaining to prod at him.  “I was merely providing you with the most judicious of answers.”

“Now there’s the Spock, I know and sometimes care about,” McCoy replied. 

Closing his eyes briefly, Spock caressed the piece of Nyota that shone at the back of his mind.  “Did Ensign Hartmann survive?” 

“Yes.  We have her in an induced coma while she heals.”

Spock was gratified to hear she would live.  Throughout their ordeal, even unconscious, she held on to the threads of her life. 

“Lieutenant Uhura?  How is she?” 

A broad smile stretched across the doctor’s face.  He stepped aside, adjusting the privacy screen.  “Why don’t you ask her, yourself?”

Instantly, Nyota, dressed in hospital attire was at his bed.  Her cool hands grasped his right hand.  There were unshed tears in her eyes and a small smile quivered at her lips. She had never looked more beautiful to him.

McCoy stepped back, his hand going up to the privacy screen.  “I’ll give you two some alone time.  Just call if you need something.”  

As the doctor’s retreating steps faded, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.  “They told me what you did to keep me alive.”

Caressing Nyota’s fingers, he gazed up into her brown eyes.  “You are mine; just as I am yours, _k’diwa_.  I will always do anything within my ability to keep you safe and alive.”

The tears finally escaped her eyes and he reached up to brush them away.  Capturing his hand against her cheek, she replied, “I would do the same.”

“I do not doubt you.”

She let go of his hand and took a seat at the edge of his narrow bio-bed.  “So, with our bond, we’re almost married?”

 _Our bond_ , the sound of those two words pleased him.  He wondered why it took three years and near death for them to do it.  “Yes we are.  Do you wish to have an official ceremony?”

Nyota fidgeted a bit until she was comfortable, a thoughtful expression stealing over features.  “When I was a young girl, one of my aunts became engaged.  She showed up at our home and gave us a detailed description of the momentous event.  She described the restaurant, the flowers and how the very expensive ring was slipped onto her finger.  Listening to her, I wanted that for myself.  It sounded exciting.” 

Spock was not sure he liked where this story was going.  He knew among Humans, especially females, marriage and all the particulars that went with it could become an elaborate ritual with many steps.  “Is this your way of saying you would like me to propose in the Human way?”

She watched him under lowered lashes.  He felt a soft tickle of amusement along their bond.  He realised, they would have to practice mental shielding.  Presently, however, he was more concerned with the turn of their conversation.

“But,” she continued, as if he had never asked his question.  “On that planet, when I thought I would die, I came to the realisation that such a thing was trivial.  What truly mattered were our feelings for each other.  Yes, I would like a ceremony someday.  Perhaps we can have it here on the ship or Earth, maybe New Vulcan.  Right now, I would prefer to simply enjoy the gift of being bonded to you.”

Spock tried to untangle every meaning buried within her small speech.  After a moment of concentrated effort, he could only glean two certainties:  Nyota was happy bonded to him and she would officially marry him at some point.  It was good enough for him.  “As you wish,” he said, in response.

She curled her body next to his and placed a hand on his chest, her fingers absently drawing patterns.  They were quiet for a few minutes, content to enjoy each other’s company. 

“Getting back to our discussion before the ion storm, we kicked butt at the symposium.” 

“I remember, remarking that such an attitude was not in spirit with the event.” 

Nyota shook her head.  “Mariah and I disagreed.  Since, we live in a democracy with majority rule, I stand firm by our conclusion.” 

Not answering, he pulled her closer.  She then launched into a detailed outline to support her argument.  It was amusing and illogical.  Spock found, he did not care.  All that mattered was that she was alive and they were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it. My first fic, which was written back in 2009. It's a bit rough but it had some help from my sometimes beta reader, spocklikescats.
> 
> Comments or reviews would be greatly appreciated. I do enjoy hearing from readers. XOXO


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